Out of This World: THE MOON Exhibition at Louisiana and First Man

When life on earth seems all too crazy, there’s nothing like a trip to the moon to give you perspective. With the upcoming 50th anniversary of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, the lunar experience has never been so within reach.  In cinemas there’s the awe-inspiring yet sobering Neil Armstrong biopic First Man, and/or have another excuse to visit Denmark and head to THE MOON: From Inner Worlds to Outer Space exhibition at Louisiana Museum of Modern Art.

A scenic train ride just north of Copenhagen, Louisiana is worth a visit for its dreamy setting alone: a sea-side villa overlooking the Oresund Strait – Sweden lies just across the water – and whose back garden features a fairy-tale lake. It’s a place of calm and escape.

stars around the beautiful moon

hide back their luminous form

whenever all full she shines

on the earth

silvery

– Sappho

Take the anonymous back entrance to The Moon exhibition (Louisiana’s not big on signs) and you start with moon-inspired poetry (the finest from Sappho, Borges, Leopardi, Dickinson and Plath) and end being serenaded by a ghostly unmanned grand piano playing – what else? – Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata.

The museum presents “a multifaceted portrait of the Moon and its significance in modern culture” and it’s brilliant. With its 6 themes – Moonlight, Selenography, The Moon of Myth, The Moon Landing, The Colonisation of Space and Deep Time – the exhibition is almost guaranteed to re-ignite curiosity in a satellite that humans have perhaps come to take for granted, not least since we stuck a flag on it.

Deep Time explores the geology of the earth and moon with a plethora of fascinating facts. It reminds us that while the moon is moving away from the earth, the earth’s rotation is slowing down. More of a surprise was that the earth is technically pear-shaped.

In The Colonisation of Space, various architectural designs are on display for inhabiting the moon, the most attractive of which is China’s 3D-printed igloo. According to the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, no government can lay claim to any celestial body, not that it has stopped anyone from trying. Nor does it seem to have prevented the 100+ million pieces of space junk orbiting our planet. The seductive voices of musician Gruff Rhys and actress Sally Potter narrate two trippy short films on the subject.

The earth looked like a jewel floating in blackness.”

Video art features heavily throughout the exhibition and offers some of the most memorable experiences. Towards the end/beginning of the exhibition, an astronaut describes both the beauty of space and the physical challenges of returning to earth – thwarted balance and acceleration, heightened sensitivities and the sheer weight of everything: “My wristwatch felt like a bowling ball.” Adapting to earth, it turns out, is even harder than adapting to space.

Laurie Anderson’s virtual reality installation “To the Moon”

One way to avoid the massive come-down is to take a journey of a different kind and Louisiana offers that very thing. Artist Laurie Anderson’s virtual reality installation “To the Moon” is the absolute highlight of the exhibition. As if inhabiting a video-game, participants can walk on and float above the moon whilst extended arms allow for scrambling up craters. You have to trust where you are going for when you find yourself riding a donkey to the edge of a cosmic abyss or perched on the peak of a mountain, it’s a battle of the senses in order not to lose balance.

Both political and poetic, Anderson’s journey conjures feelings of wonder and loss. There is the sense of fragility of life on earth where images of dinosaurs and the word democracy become stardust. “I like stars,” Anderson says, “because we can’t harm them.”

The Moon Landing section offers stunning photographs by Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong as well as fascinating work by the artist Robert Rauschenberg who was invited by NASA to witness the launch of Apollo 11. Lithographs and collages produced for the unpublished Stoned Moon book capture the sublime imagination and the sheer enormity of the mission. The text in his collages offer an amusing and poetic take: “Fantastic things happen when destinies bump and interlock.” Artist Yves Klein, meanwhile, provides a healthy does of scepticism. Klein was against the superpowers’ space programmes. Space travel, he believed, should take the form of a spiritual journey.

The Moon Landing section with lithographs and collages by Rauschenberg (right)

Symbol of Longing

The Moon of Myth explores the role of the moon in our imaginations with stories from Danish folklore, surrealist art from Salvador Dalí, Max Ernst and Joseph Cornell and the world’s first sci-fi, Georges Méliès’ raucous hand-coloured A Trip to the Moon (1902) – a film that is very much out-there.

For the artists of Romanticism (the so-called “moon-light period” of 19th century European culture) the moon was a symbol of longing. “The sublime power of the moon lies in its distance from us: it is at once visible, accessible and yet at a distance and therefore unattainable.” In other words, the moon is the ultimate muse.

A still from George Melies’s `A Trip to the Moon’ (1902)

The Moonlight section features some gorgeous 19th century landscape paintings where “the frailty of human life is contrasted with the Moon’s eternal light.” It is somewhat ironic that artists were busy fetishising moonlight at a time when artificial light was fast taking over.

Moonlight nowadays has become an endangered species, an issue highlighted by Scottish artist Katie Paterson’s Light Bulb to Simulate Moonlight. It’s a work of art that does what it says on the tin – a single light bulb in a room. Outside, a set of 289 bulbs offer a lifetime’s supply of moonlight. After Laurie Anderson’s VR trip to the moon, the experience of sitting in a room with a single hanging light bulb was a tad underwhelming (but then I did the exhibition backwards). Paterson’s clinical work however encourages a renewed appreciation of the real thing.

Perhaps the most stunning images of the exhibition are NASA’S up close and personal photographs of the moon’s surface. Located in Selenography, this part of the exhibition tells the story of the mapping of the moon, an occupation that dates all the way back to Galileo in 1609, when, thanks to his improved telescope, he discovered that the surface of the moon was anything but perfect.

The NASA photographs are both beautiful and intriguing and include a shot of the mysterious dark side of the moon. Technically it’s not so dark (it’s officially called the far side of the moon) as the “dark side” receives just as much sunlight as its earth face.

Gleaming Lights of the Souls by Yayoi Kusama

A happy coincidence is the presence of the Yayoi Kusama installation, Gleaming Lights of the Souls. in the midst of THE MOON exhibition. In place since 2008, Gleaming Lights is a mirrored room full of tiny hanging lights that constantly change colour. With its 360° views of infinity, Gleaming Lights encourages a sense of wonder and embodies the spirit of THE MOON exhibition, a place where inner worlds and outer space collide.

First Man

For a blockbuster about space travel, First Man is surprisingly down-to-earth, subdued even. Director Damien Chazelle, whose previous films include La La Land and Whiplash, once again ventures behind the scenes of show business with a low-key biopic of Neil Armstrong,  the man who fronted one of the 20th century’s greatest spectacles.

First Man is as much about one man’s grief as it is about stepping foot on the moon and the film plays on the lines between life and death. Devastated after the death of his young daughter, Armstrong remains the consummate professional, confident in his ability to get the job done. Humble, conscientious and tactiturn, Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) is a welcome antidote to the more usual bravado of the on-screen American hero.

Ryan Gosling as Neil Armstrong in First Man (2018)

First man doesn’t glamourise space travel. In fact it does quite the opposite. As with the early days of aviation (see Mary S Lovell’s biography of aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart) space travel was an uncomfortable and perilous endeavour where the slightest error could result in tragedy; it required high-intelligence and nerves of steel. Armstrong, of course, had both and thus narrowly avoids catastrophe on several occasions.

Not only does Armstrong lose his daughter to illness, he also loses friends and colleagues (who themselves leave families behind) in the name of the space race. First Man doesn’t offer a fixed view however it does question the point of space travel. There are scenes of protests claiming that the money would be better spent fixing problems on earth and that space travel is a white man’s game. Armstrong’s long-suffering and otherwise stoic wife Janet (Claire Foy) lets loose at one point in the film calling NASA “a bunch of boys making models out of balsa wood.”

Claire Foy as Janet Armstrong

Whilst politicians vie for prestige and scientists advocate for research, at a press conference, Armstrong is more circumspect: “Leaving the planet, and seeing how thin the atmosphere is that keeps us alive… seeing, with one’s own eyes, just how fragile human life is… gives a different perspective.”

That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

First Man culminates with Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin (shout out to Second Man) landing and walking on the moon. Not only does the film manage to convey the sheer enormity of the achievement, it maintains the suspense even though we know the mission was successful. And rather than highlighting the moon landing as an American achievement (the flag is shown but not the moment when the flag was placed), Chazelle focusses more on human endeavour.

For Armstrong the moon landing was deeply personal. In the film he takes a moment to himself where he walks to a nearby crater and leaves his daughter’s bracelet. (Whether or not Armstrong really left anything on the moon we may never know unless we go back, however he did stray from the official plan.) Moreover, that a man of so few words should come up with the quote of the century is remarkable.

I loved First Man. But it’s not really about going to the moon. It’s about a man so desperately sad that he‘d risk his life to go on a faraway rock where everything is dead, silent, and still forever. “Do you think I’m standing out here because I want to talk to somebody?” – Elena Lazic, film critic

First Man is a fitting tribute to a man of extraordinary courage and by extension, all astronauts and their families. Brilliantly acted – Ryan Gosling and Claire Foy are wonderful. My only gripe is that the formidable Janet Armstrong doesn’t get a role beyond being the long-suffering wife. A recent New York Times interview with the Armstrong sons revealed that Janet taught synchronised swimming. Further research reveals that she founded the El Lago Aquanauts in 1964, a team in which many astronaut families were involved. At the time of the Apollo 11 mission in 1969, the team were competing in the Nationals. Wouldn’t scenes of synchronised swimmers have contrasted beautifully with astronauts in space?

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from THE MOON exhibition and First Man, it’s that, whilst space travel can take different forms, I never want to leave planet earth. And the moon? Best viewed from a distance.

THE MOON: From Inner Worlds to Outer Space exhibition poster

Night Vision: Muriel Spark vs Prada Fall 2018

For her Fall 2018 collection, Miuccia Prada sent a riot of eye-popping neon and candy-coloured pastels across the Milanese night skyline. “My dream is for women to be able to go out in the street late at night and not be afraid,” said the designer, whose latest vision fits her feminist outlook. Famous for creating clothes with a dual purpose – clothes that are both powerful and feminine, serious and playful – Prada produced a collection that offers protection and charm, one that focuses on making women visible. Industrial chic meets after-party, these are clothes for an all-night bender.

The setting couldn’t have been more perfect for this glow-in-the-dark collection. The show was held in the new extension to the Prada Foundation in Milan, a former distillery turned art space. Simply called ‘Torre’, this striking white tower designed by OMA offers fabulous views of Milan whilst providing a welcome landmark for the area. Yet to be opened to the public so still in a sense a building site, the fourth floor had a nightclub feel, merging with the city’s nightscape by way of neon signs, a black mirrored floor and electronic music, complete with a drone filming proceedings.

Despite the feel-good colours on display, the show didn’t garner the best reviews. It could well be that the 15-minute wait for the lift that never came (surely a metaphor for something) made the fashion pack somewhat less receptive to the wares on display. Whilst not the most overtly sexy of shows, the juxtaposition of colours and fabrics has a charm of its own; these are clothes that grab your attention. There’s a certain modesty to them too; although the longer you look, the more they reveal.

I thought about Muriel Spark, in particular the Italophile/Mussolini enthusiast Jean Brodie, when visiting the Post Zang Tumb Tuuum. Art Life Politics: Italia 1918–1943 exhibition, currently running at the Prada Foundation. It’s an extensive exhibition that charts the role of art and culture between the wars in a country dominated by fascism (with interesting timing given the recent shift in Italian politics towards populism and the far-right). The exhibition puts the art into context by recreating original exhibitions and offering a detailed timeline of events, as well as documenting the extent to which artists collaborated with the regime. It is particularly strong on the Futurists and their art of explosive colour.

It was only when I saw the images from the Prada Fall show however that the Muriel Spark centenary editions immediately sprung to mind (all 22 of her novels are being reprinted by Polygon this year to mark the centenary of Spark’s birth). The eye-catching book jackets designed by Teresa Monachino come in a variety of mouth-watering candy pastels and bright neons. Much like the latest Prada collection, it is hard to avert your gaze.

And so, beset by the flu, I set about matching book covers with outfits (a surprisingly soothing activity, much like doing a jigsaw puzzle) with uncanny results.

Whilst the matchmaking worked wonderfully with the Polygon editions, the New Directions edition of The Driver’s Seat (below left) also has its counterpart.

New Directions Edition

Prada Fall 2018

The model (above right) looks like she could be the main character in The Driver’s Seat – Lise: a woman on a mission who could well have a knife in her handbag. The 1974 film adaptation starring Elizabeth Taylor is overdue for a remake and Miuccia Prada would be the perfect collaborator.

Muriel Spark loved clothes and accessories. I don’t know of her relationship with the fashion house, if any, however I like to imagine that Miuccia Prada and Muriel Spark would have got on well: both strong, independent, commercially successful female artists with a clear vision; both productive and experimental, playing with form whilst exploring opposites and extremes; artists whose work offers a much deeper commentary behind the glossy facade.

Scotland and the Slave Trade

Tired of walking past the ridiculously high statue of Henry Dundas – the man who delayed the abolition of slavery by 15 years – in Edinburgh’s St Andrew Square every day, I attended the Black History Month 2017 event at the Scottish Parliament’s Festival of Politics in order to find out a little more about Dundas and Scotland’s role in the slave trade.

It was both enlightening and disturbing to learn about Scotland’s intrinsic involvement and that the slave trade provided a key incentive for Scotland’s union with England in 1707.  Take a look at article IV of the Act of Union:

Scotland first started trading tobacco with Virginia, then sugar and coffee with Jamaica which became a major stronghold. By 1800 in Jamaica there were 10,000 Scots, 10,000 English and 300,000 slaves. The slave trade was a major boost to Scotland’s economy and its legacy remains in buildings such as Glasgow’s Gallery of Modern Art (a former slave master’s house) and street names such as Jamaica Street. There’s even a window in Glasgow Cathedral dedicated to a tobacco lord.

There is evidence to suggest that there were up to 30 Scottish slave ships, sailing out from Greenock and Glasgow and even newly trained surgeons played a role. Scotland being famous for producing surgeons, many joined slave ships  – getting a bonus for the delivery of slaves in good condition – or worked on plantations where they conducted experiments on the slave population.

After the British Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, slave owners were heavily compensated. The Edinburgh Slavery Map details those New Town profiteers and how much they received – part of a £20 million compensation package, some 40% of the British government’s annual budget.

Slavery was such a profitable enterprise that even Scotland’s national hero Robbie Burns planned to go out to Jamaica to become a “book keeper” in 1786. Fortunately he was saved by the success of his poetry and changed his tune to pen his anti-slavery poem The Slave’s Lament in 1792.

Black Burns by Douglas Gordon

Two current exhibits at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery – Graham Fagan’s The Slave’s Lament and Douglas Gordon’s Black Burns – commemorate this history and pay tribute to the trafficked and enslaved.

It is ironic that such exhibits are to be found just metres from the Dundas statue in St Andrew Square. At nearly 150ft high, the statue (known as the Melville monument) is Edinburgh’s tallest, so far away you can’t see Dundas’ face. This is the man responsible for the adding the wording “gradually abolished” to William Wilberforce’s bill for the abolition of the slave trade in 1792 thus perpetuating the trade for another 15 years at least.

The Dundas Statue in St Andrew Square, Edinburgh

With many titles including Lord Advocate and Governor of the Bank of Scotland, Home and War Secretary, Lord of the Admiralty and Treasurer of the Royal Navy, Dundas was not only the most powerful man in the country, he was arguably the most powerful man in the world and played a key role in the expansion of the British Empire. A crook, he siphoned off public money for which he was later impeached and divorced his wife (whom he married when she was just 14), stealing her fortune and ensuring that she never saw her children again. He is also known for mobilising troops to suppress protesters against the Highland Clearances. All in all, not a nice guy. And yet he towers above Edinburgh residents going about their day-to-day business.

There is a campaign to change the wording on the plaque of the Melville monument to better educate the public on Henry Dundas. Professor Geoff Palmer, expert on Scotland’s slave trade history and Chair of the event, recently made this YouTube video on the subject.

Many people, myself included, would like to see Edinburgh Council go further by removing the statue of Dundas and replacing it with a more worthy figure. There is an argument that Sir Geoff Palmer espouses that if you remove the evidence, you remove the history. That said, I would argue that there are better ways to commemorate such a dark history: a statue of an abolitionist, a specially commissioned sculpture, or a monument that commemorates Scotland and Jamaica’s shared history perhaps.

Even a simple gesture such as flying both the Jamaican and Scottish flags above the plinth would be a welcome display of solidarity. It is no coincidence that the two flags are so similar in design. There is in fact a new lottery-funded project called Flag Up Scotland Jamaica set up to promote links between the two nations.

Geoff Palmer hopes that an increased awareness of this uncomfortable past will help foster a greater sense of belonging among descendants of the slave trade. Perhaps also it will help the people of Scotland to address the legacy of the British Empire.

Day Dreamer: After Breakfast by Elin Danielson-Gambogi

‘After Breakfast’ is a painting by the Finnish artist Elin Kleopatra Danielson-Gambogi (1861-1919). I came across it earlier this year at the Japanomania exhibition at Denmark’s National Gallery, the SMK, and was immediately captivated. I was struck by the image of a young woman smoking, who, having finished her breakfast decides to take a moment simply to think, to be.

‘After Breakfast’ by Elin Kleopatra Danielson-Gambogi (1890)

‘After Breakfast’ seems like an act of rebellion: a young woman blowing smoke over the remains of her breakfast, refusing to rush off and do whatever tasks lie in wait. It was painted in 1890 yet it feels so modern; the woman is carving out time for herself, demonstrating an independence and assertion that we usually don’t associate with women of that time. Set in an era before smoking became a knowing act of self-destruction, the painting has an air of freedom about it. From the body language – she might be resting but she’s leaning forward with both elbows on the table – to the uncleared dishes, this is a woman at ease with herself, a woman in command.

It’s an image that seems to fit the spirit of the artist. Danielson-Gambogi is generally considered to be Finland’s first bohemian female artist. She was part of the first generation of Finnish women artists to receive a professional art education, the so-called ‘painter sisters’ generation. Teaching drawing gave Danielson-Gambogi financial independence whilst she gained critical acclaim for her art and won scholarships to study in Paris and Florence. She loved to travel and married late – at the grand old age of 36 – to a much younger man, and continued to pursue her art at a time when it was rare for a women to earn a living as an artist.

‘After Breakfast’ is a beautiful, dreamy image. It is a pleasure to look at, and invites the viewer to keep on looking. Danielson-Gambogi seems to have had a particular talent for capturing scenes of domestic bliss. There’s an incredible use of light in her paintings, whether it’s precious Nordic daylight or the glow of table lamps during those long winter evenings, and she has a way of painting furniture and objects that brings them to life. If you hone in on the table, everything is painted in fine detail, from the light reflected in the glasses to the broken egg-shells, it’s like a still-life painting. The Japanese craze that swept Europe in the late 19th century is also present in the crockery and the flowers.

It may seem ironic, taking a moment to watch someone else taking a moment, but in many ways, those are some of the most relaxing occasions. The act of smoking, specifically the cigarette break, lends itself perfectly to the notion of taking time out. When I lived in Toulouse,  I used to love watching my neighbour, a stressed young father, leaning out between the blue shutters overhanging the back courtyard, cigarette in hand, enjoying a brief moment of calm.

Poetry too can be a means of respite. Poems, like paintings have the power to both capture a moment and to temporarily transport the reader or viewer. The following passage is taken from a tribute to the late American poet John Ashbery, who died earlier this month. It reminds me of ‘After Breakfast’:  the painting’s quiet domesticity, its sublime beauty, and most of all, its depiction of the dreamer taking her own sweet time.