LA ROMA DEI RE. IL RACCONTO DELL’ARCHEOLOGIA. MUSEI CAPITOLINI

27/07/2018 - 27/01/2019

La mostra, promossa da Roma Capitale, Assessorato alla Crescita culturale - Sovrintendenza Capitolina ai Beni Culturali e a cura di Isabella Damiani e Claudio Parisi Presicce, viene ospitata presso i Musei Capitolini, all’interno delle Sale Espositive di Palazzo Caffarelli e nell’Area del Tempio di Giove di Palazzo dei Conservatori.

La Roma dei Re. Il racconto dell’Archeologia accende i riflettori sulla fase più antica della storia di Roma, illustrando gli aspetti salienti della formazione della città e ricostruendo costumi, ideologie, capacità tecniche, contatti con ambiti culturali diversi, trasformazioni sociali e culturali che interessarono Roma nel periodo in cui la città, secondo le fonti storiche, era governata da re.

Grazie a lunghe attività di revisione, restauro e studio è possibile mostrare per la prima volta al pubblico dati e reperti archeologici mai esposti prima, talvolta sorprendenti e suggestivi per la loro bellezza e modernità.

Il percorso espositivo - che inizia a partire dal limite cronologico più recente, il VI secolo a.C., e arriva fino al X secolo a.C. - si snoda in diverse sezioni: Santuari e palazzi nella Roma regia, con reperti provenienti dall’area sacra di Sant’Omobono nel Foro Boario presso l’antico approdo sul Tevere; I riti sepolcrali a Roma tra il 1000 e il 500 a.C., con corredi tombali dalle aree successivamente occupate dai Fori di Cesare e di Augusto e dal Foro romano; L’abitato più antico: la prima Roma, con il plastico di Roma arcaica per un viaggio a ritroso nel tempo dalla Roma di oggi a quella delle origini; Scambi e commerci tra Età del Bronzo ed Età Orientalizzante, con testimonianze provenienti in massima parte dalla necropoli dell’Esquilino, uno dei complessi più importanti della Roma arcaica; e le sezioni Indicatori di ruolo femminile e maschile, Oggetti di lusso e di prestigio, e Corredi funerari “confusi”, che contengono reperti e oggetti provenienti anch’essi per lo più dalla necropoli dell’Esquilino a testimonianza di quella che poteva essere la ricchezza originaria della necropoli.

http://www.museicapitolini.org/it/mostra-evento/la-roma-dei-re-il-racconto-dell-archeologia

THE VICTORIAN ARTIST WHO PAINTED FAIRY WORLDS FROM AN ASYLUM

Alina Cohen

Richard Dadd, Come unto These Yellow Sands, 1842. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

The Victorian artist Richard Dadd painted exquisite, highly detailed canvases filled with fairies and other magical creatures. In his best-known work, The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke (ca. 1855–64), flowers, leaves, and stalks of grass unfurl across the canvas, giving way to a magical world of miniature figures in fanciful dresses and crowns. They gather around a brown-suited gentleman who’s about to cleave an acorn in two with an ax. Yet this central act of violence eerily corresponds to Dadd’s earlier misdeeds: In 1843, in a bout of madness, he killed his father, then assaulted a tourist on a train on his escape. He spent the rest of his life in institutions; the asylum became his studio, where he produced most of his imaginative paintings.

An 1878 census from the United Kingdom lists Dadd as both an “artist” and a “lunatic.” In Victorian England, the latter term was a perfectly acceptable catch-all for sufferers of mental illness. Dadd was hardly the first painter or sculptor with such a diagnosis. Indeed, philosophers and physicians have investigated the link between creativity and madness for millennia. Plato even philosophized about the topic in ancient Greece. Artistic inspiration, he believed, was God-given madness. From Vincent van Gogh hacking off his own ear to Sylvia Plath’s suicide-by-oven, many of our most lauded creative practitioners are, for better or for worse, also remembered for their intense manias and depressions. Dadd offers one of the most tragic examples of inventive brilliance coupled with (poorly treated) mental illness.

Dadd’s early life was unremarkable. He was born in Kent in 1817, and his family moved to London when he was 18. Two years later, he enrolled in the Royal Academy. Dadd became friendly with the up-and-coming painters of his day: Augustus Egg

, William Powell Frith, and Edward Matthew Ward, among others. He received awards for his draughtsmanship, and during this time, he was focused on a fairly traditional series of Shakespearean illustrations. In the early 1840s, he painted fairies from A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Puck and Titania, the queen of the fairies. His 1842 canvas Come Unto These Yellow Sands takes inspiration from The Tempest. In sum, Dadd fit neatly into Britain’s well-heeled creative scene.

Portrait of Richard Dadd painting Contradiction: Oberon and Titania, ca. 1856. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

“I think he was very much of his time, right up until he killed his father,” Marc Demarest, who maintains a popular web page about Dadd, told Artsy. Demarest became interested in the artist after seeing The Fairy-Feller’s Master-Stroke at the Tate (where it’s in the permanent collection) in 2005. The obsessive detail, most of all, piqued his curiosity. “It’s not a painting that you can take in in 5 minutes or 15 minutes,” he said. “I still don’t know what it means. When you stand a foot and a half from it and peer into actual work, it’s pretty magical.”

Dadd’s life took its sad, strange turn during a trip across Europe and the Middle East with his patron, Sir Thomas Phillips. The pair embarked in July 1842, crossing the Alps and exploring Venice before setting sail to Greece, Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul), Cyprus, Beirut, and Jerusalem, among other cities. Dadd began suffering from headaches. After seeing impressions of the Egyptian god Osiris in Cairo, he also became paranoid, threatening Phillips; Dadd apparently believed he’d been tasked with fighting the devil……………….

https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-victorian-artist-painted-fairy-worlds-asylum?utm_medium=email&utm_source=14969835-newsletter-editorial-daily-11-03-18&utm_campaign=editorial&utm_content=st-V

ARGERICH, POLLINI, SOKOLOV, VOLODOS… LA ARISTOCRACIA DEL PIANO, EN LA NUEVA TEMPORADA DE GRANDES INTÉRPRETES

El Ciclo Grandes Intérpretes, organizado por la Fundación Scherzo, ha reunido en el programa de su 24ª temporada a un puñado de los mejores pianistas de la escena musical internacional. Entre los meses de enero y noviembre de 2019, pasarán por el escenario del Auditorio Nacional de Música, artistas como Arcadi Volodos, Maurizio Pollini, Grigori Sokolov, Javier Perianes, Josep Colom, Beatrice Rana y Khatia Buniatiaskhvili (ambas debutantes en el ciclo), Anne Queffélec y Martha Argerich con la Kremerata Báltica.

El joven pianista sevillano Juan Floristán estrenará la nueva sección del ciclo, ‘Debut entre grandes’, con un recital que tendrá lugar el 11 de septiembre de 2019. En los diez conciertos de Grandes Intérpretes se podrán escuchar obras de Schubert, Rachmaninov, Scriabin, Beethoven, Falla, Chopin, Stravinsky, Scarlatti y Debussy, entre otros compositores.

“En esta edición proponemos nuevos precios para una temporada que sale con mucha fuerza (Volodos, Pollini y Sokolov) para terminar con Kremerata Baltica y Martha Argerich. Garantizamos un mínimo de 20 entradas del Ciclo Grandes Intérpretes para jóvenes, a seis euros, en todos los conciertos. Además, nuestra apuesta por los jóvenes músicos españoles se concreta en un concierto de Juan Pérez Floristán a un precio muy especial”, destaca sobre la nueva temporada Patrick Alfaya, director del ciclo.

De esta manera, los abonos para diez recitales se sitúan a partir de los 207 euros. Los abonados pueden renovar su suscripción hasta el viernes 16 de noviembre de 2018, fecha a partir de la cual será posible adquirir nuevos abonos. Las entradas sueltas se pondrán a la venta a partir de 20 euros.

Con casi un cuarto de siglo de historia, por este ciclo patrocinado por El País, Inaem y la Cadena Ser han pasado más de un centenar de pianistas que han participado en más de 200 conciertos. Se trata de uno de los mejores ciclos en su especialidad en toda Europa y sobrevive gracias al público y a sus patrocinadores. Desde el año 2002 se celebra paralelamente el ciclo Jóvenes Intérpretes que ha programado recitales de más de medio centenar de pianistas, hoy ya consagrados.

THE 5 MOST SHOCKING REVELATIONS IN TINA TURNER'S NEW MEMOIR, 'MY LOVE STORY'

Maeve McDermott  USA TODAY

Tina Turner fans always knew the Queen of Rock 'n' Roll was a survivor.

But Turner's new memoir, "My Love Story" (Atria, 272 pp., ★★★ out of four), reveals the full extent of the harrowing ordeals the 78-year-old singer has overcome in her decades in the spotlight.

From new details about her abusive marriage to Ike Turner to previously undisclosed recent health issues that nearly killed her, "My Love Story" is full of revelations that illustrate Turner's iron will and perseverance over seemingly impossible obstacles.

"My Love Story" by Tina Turner.

Atria

Here are five newsworthy revelations from "My Love Story":

1. She attempted suicide while married to Ike.

The first half of "My Love Story" is dominated by a relationship that's quite the opposite of Turner's book title – her physically, mentally and sexually abusive marriage to Ike Turner.

"He threw hot coffee in my face, giving me third-degree burns," she writes. "He used my nose as a punching bag so many times that I could taste blood running down my throat when I sang. He broke my jaw. And I couldn't remember what it was like not to have a black eye."

At one of her most desperate moments, Turner says she tried to kill herself during one of her and Ike's many tours, taking 50 sleeping pills one night before a show. She survived, recalling how she woke up in a hospital bed with Ike in her face, telling her, "You should die, (expletive)."

And yet, her suicide attempt "wasn't a cry for help," she says. "When I took those pills, I chose death, and I chose it honestly. I was unhappy when I woke up."

Tina Turner arrives for the Giorgio Armani fashion show in Beijing on May 31, 2012.

Ng Han Guan, AP

2. Ike forced her to go to a brothel on their wedding night in 1962.

Among the near-countless abuses and humiliations of Tina and Ike's marriage, one of the first she describes is her wedding night. Ike took Tina to Tijuana, Mexico, for a quickie ceremony, a plan she reluctantly accepted, explaining, "(Arguing) would just make him mad, and that might lead to a beating. I definitely didn't want a black eye on my wedding day."

To make matters worse, Ike decided that the newlyweds would spend their wedding night at a brothel. "People can't imagine the kind of man he was – a man who takes his brand-new wife to a live, pornographic sex show right after their marriage ceremony," Turner writes. "What was on display was more gynecological than erotic. ... I was miserable the whole time, on the verge of tears, but there was no escape."

Tina Turner performs in Zurich, Switzerland on Feb. 15, 2009.

STEFFEN SCHMIDT, AP

3. Ike's goons shot up Tina's house after she left him.

After Turner finally left Ike in July 1976 (she escaped a Dallas hotel while they were on tour after a brutal fight), she says Ike would send his "stooges" to intimidate her when she filed for divorce.

Turner describes signing up for food stamps while living with her four sons and her longtime assistant and friend Rhonda Graam in a small house in Laurel Canyon after filing divorce papers, a period in which Tina Turner says Ike sent his associates to intimidate her by destroying the house and its property.

"One night ... we heard this loud 'bang, bang, bang' coming from outside. When we looked, we saw that the back window of Rhonda's car had been blown out with bullets," she writes. "Another night, they actually shot into the house. We were so scared that Rhonda slept in the boys' room and I slept in the closet because the room had a skylight and I was afraid there would be more shooting."

Tina Turner performs at The Sprint Center in Kansas City, Mo., on Oct. 1, 2008.

Orlin Wagner, AP

4. Tina had a stroke and a secret kidney transplant.

Fast forward four decades, and Turner is a world-renowned pop star who has just married the man she considers the real love of her life, German music producer Erwin Bach, after 27 years together.

The couple's just-married bliss was interrupted three months after their wedding when Turner suffered a stroke. After denying media reports about the stroke, Turner would learn in short order that she had both kidney failure and vertigo.

After undergoing excruciating-yet-successful vertigo treatments and beginning to stabilize her kidneys, Turner began experiencing chronic diarrhea and was diagnosed with intestinal cancer in January 2016.

Turner's doctors treated her cancer by removing part of her intestine, but her kidneys worsened, to the point where she signed up for an assisted suicide program. But then Bach decided to give her one of his kidneys, and a successful transplant occurred in April 2017.

"My body keeps trying to reject the new kidney, which is not uncommon after a transplant," Turner writes about ongoing health issues. "Sometimes, the treatment involves spending more time in the hospital, and it comes with some unpleasant side effects, including dizziness, forgetfulness, anxiety and the occasional bout of insane diarrhea."

Tina Turner, seen with husband Erwin Bach in 2015, announced via Twitter Friday that she had scattered the ashes of her late son in the Pacific Ocean.

Getty Images for Giorgio Armani

5. Tina reveals the last conversation she had with her son, Craig.

Turner suffered another painful blow this year when her eldest son, Craig, committed suicide at age 59 on July 3.

(Craig was found dead in his Los Angeles-area home. The county coroner's office told USA TODAY that the preliminary cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.)

Turner recalls their final phone conversation in late June; he was in L.A. and she was in Zurich, where she lives. "Mother, I'm really happy," Turner recalls her son saying, describing a new relationship, before thanking her. "You know you give me courage. You give me really good advice."

Several weeks later, Turner and Bach received the news of Craig's suicide while celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary in Paris. "Craig was a troubled soul," Turner writes.

"I can still see him as a little boy, no more than two or three, wanting so badly to sit with me when I came home from a tour, but being told by Ike to go to his room. (Editor's note: Craig's father was Kings of Rhythm saxophonist Raymond Hill, but he was adopted as a child by Ike Turner.) I'm sure in his little mind he didn't have any words to explain how much he wanted his mother ... it wasn't my choice."

Turner writes that she planned a private service in Los Angeles to remember Craig and kept some of her most beloved possessions of his – to build a little shrine in her home to honor and remember him.

More: Tina Turner scatters son Craig's ashes in the Pacific: 'He will always be my baby'

https://eu.usatoday.com/story/life/books/2018/10/16/five-shocking-revelations-tina-turners-memoir-my-love-story-suicide-attempt-kidney-transplant-stroke/1614153002/

UN NOUVEAU ROMAN. UNE VIEILLE HISTOIRE DE JONATHAN LITTELL. ENTRETIEN

« Ma tête creva la surface et ma bouche s’ouvrit pour happer l’air tandis que, dans un vacarme d’éclaboussures, mes mains trouvaient le bord, prenaient appui et, transférant la force de ma lancée aux épaules, hissaient mon corps ruisselant hors de l’eau. Je restai un instant en équilibre au bord, désorienté par les échos assourdis des cris et des bruits d’eau, étourdi par la vision fragmentée de parties de mon corps dans les grandes glaces encadrant le bassin. […] Je me ressaisis, ôtai mon bonnet et mes lunettes, et, jetant un dernier regard par-dessus mon épaule à la ligne luisante de mes muscles dorsaux, sortis par les portes battantes. […] Devant, je ne distinguais rien, j’avançais presque au hasard, au-dessus de ma tête je ne voyais aucun plafond, peut-être courais-je enfin à l’air libre, peut-être pas. Un vif choc au coude projeta un éclat de douleur à travers mon bras, j’y portai tout de suite l’autre main et me retournai : un objet, sur le mur, se détachait de la grisaille, luisant. Je posai les doigts dessus, il s’agissait d’une poignée, j’appuyai et la porte s’ouvrit, m’entraînant après elle. »

Un narrateur sort d’une piscine, se change, et se met à courir dans un couloir gris. Il découvre des portes, qui s’ouvrent sur des territoires (maison, chambre d’hôtel, studio, ville ou zone sauvage), lieux où se jouent et se rejouent les rapports humains les plus essentiels (la famille, le couple, la solitude, le groupe, la guerre). Ces territoires parcourus, la course s’achève. Puis, tout recommence. Pareil, mais pas tout à fait, dans chacun des sept chapitres que compte ce livre.

Exploration de la pulsion sous toutes ses formes,

Une vieille histoire est porté par un regard et un style implacables et dérangeants. Un projet romanesque dans le droit fil de l’œuvre de Sade ou de Bataille.

Quelle est la genèse de ce texte ?

En 2012, j’ai publié une première version, en deux chapitres, de Une vieille histoire. Normalement, une fois un livre publié, c’est terminé pour moi, mais là, il s’est passé quelque chose d’étrange : le livre a continué à produire. J’ai donc repris le manuscrit original et je l’ai développé pendant plusieurs années, notamment durant les périodes d’attente de la réalisation de Wrong Elements, mon film sur les enfants-soldats en Ouganda.

Quelles ont été vos principales sources d’inspiration ?

La structure est née telle quelle, mais prolonge d’autres textes que j’avais déjà publiés chez Fata Morgana. Quant aux décors, je pioche partout, sans hiérarchiser : photos, films, anecdotes racontées, rêves, livres, choses vécues, souvenirs d’enfance, tout est sur le même plan. C’est ma façon d’écrire depuis toujours. Le réel entier est « good enough to steal », comme disait William S. Burroughs.

Qu’entendez-vous par « décors » ?

Disons, dans ce livre en tout cas, que c’est ce qu’on pourrait appeler, en bonne logique freudienne, le « contenu manifeste » de chaque scène. Et comme tel, les décors successifs de ce livre sont interchangeables, sont traités si vous voulez comme des décors de cinéma. Mais ce qui compte, c’est le « contenu latent », les processus fondamentaux, les pulsions qui s’expriment à travers eux. En évacuant la question du « réalisme », je ne conserve que ce qui est fondamental : les rapports humains.

Entretien réalisé avec Jonathan Littell à l’occasion de la parution de Une vieille histoire.

http://www.gallimard.fr/Media/Gallimard/Entretien-ecrit/Entretien-Jonathan-Littell.-Une-vieille-histoire/(source)/206963

¡VUELVE EL CANAPEO!

He estado en cócteles dionisiácos que un videoartista de esta década no podría ni creer

SERGIO C. FANJUL

Una de las consecuencias más nefastas de la crisis económica fue la suspensión del canapeo. Antes, en los años dorados del capitalismo de cartón piedra, pensábamos que era normal que después del estreno, la presentación, la vernissage, salieran unos tipos de negro y se pusieran a repartir comida y bebida a troche y moche. Eran los únicos hombres de negro que entonces conocíamos. La discusión sobre el significado de la palabra cultura había desaparecido. ¿Qué era la cultura? Lo que precedía al manduque.

Cuando la cosa hizo crack se pensó que el canapeo era un lujo accesorio, igual que se piensa que la investigación científica básica, esa que no tiene aplicación inmediata, es tirar el dinero. Pero es falso. Igual que una investigación abstrusa puede traer grandes avances en unos años, el canapeo servía más que las subvenciones y las residencias artísticas para generar creación cultural. Tú dabas hoy unas croquetas, unos dátiles con bacon, unos pinchitos de pollo yakitori y en poco tiempo tenías un trasunto de los Young British Artists o una nueva Generación Nocilla.

No seamos cortoplacistas. Es que los artistas tienen que comer y el arte es más bien adelgazante. Así que muchas gentes de la cultura, de esas que se arremolinan en Madrid para petarlo, sobrevivían a base de estos vinos españoles, de estos cócteles a las ocho de la tarde. Luego, como digo, con la debacle financiera se acabó el chollo y se servía la cultura a palo seco y la cultura entraba mucho peor. Pero yo he estado en canapeos que un videoartista de esta década no podría ni creer, grandes cócteles pantagruélicos y dionisiacos que hacían que los sufrimientos asociados a la creación valieran, por una vez, la pena.

En algunos grandes museos hasta asistían señoras con tupperware para trincar jamón a la misma puerta de la cocina y poner algo de ibérico en su cena familiar, o eso se decía. Era la redistribución de la riqueza. Incluso comprobé los grandes peligros aparejados al periodismo cultural, similares en algunos casos a los del periodismo de guerra: en una ocasión ingerí un canapé en mal estado en una prestigiosa galería de arte y padecí una gastroenteritis (cultural) de varios días, aunque quise creer que era un síndrome de Stendhal estomacal.

No hay datos sobre la frecuencia y profundidad del canapeo español, pero mi experiencia cotidiana me dice que asoman los brotes verdes, los maki de salmón y aguacate, las birras en vaso de tubo, la hamburguesas pequeñitas pero no por ello menos sabrosas. Quizás podamos olvidarnos pronto de la triste dictadura de la olivilla y la patata frita. Escuchadme performers, poetas de provincias, sesudos comisarios: el canapeo está volviendo.

https://elpais.com/ccaa/2018/10/29/madrid/1540807679_308548.html

THE MOMENTUM OF THIS MOMENT

The abuse will go on forever, unless we stop it.

Kate Kretz

Kate Kretz, “Une Femme d’un Certain Âge (A Woman of a Certain Age)” (2014, detail), grey hair of many women, hand embroidered on black cotton, 33 x 22 inches, James Swope and Scott Robertson Collection, West Palm Beach, Florida (photo by Greg Staley, image courtesy the artist)

Most of us think of the fight for women’s equality as a steady battle upward; few people realize how often, through the course of human history, women have gained power only to lose it again.

We live in one of those pivotal moments. Reactions to current events, highlighting the misogynistic abuses of men in power, leave us poised with the potential to effect monumental change. For thousands of years, women have prayed for this day. Will we seize our sudden opportunity to consolidate cultural shifts and smash this paradigm of sexual entitlement once and for all? Or will this chance be lost, and our hard-won battles pushed to the side, as we all slide backward once again?

The past and the future rest heavily on our shoulders.

It is time to summon the fury of every woman who has come before us. The searing pain of that very first young girl, pushed to the ground so long ago, is buried deep in our collective memory. She bore the repulsive weight of her violator, but we all carry the cumulative tonnage of the interminable rapes that followed, and the threat of those to come, continuing into the unforeseeable future.

It is time to take on the humiliation of those who were silenced, the ones who guarded their predator’s heinous secrets, and wore the mantle of blame for sins that were not their own.

This abuse will go on forever, unless we stop it.

Those frat boys, who grow up to be suited Cro-Magnon men with creepy smiles, will endlessly pat each other on the back, unless we say, “No more.” Generation after generation will laugh as they celebrate their role in the sustained legacy of our terrorization, unless we act.

It is time to collect all memories of violence living in our bodies… the heart-pounding footsteps approaching behind us, the “accidental” brushing against our breasts, the muttered-under-the breath vulgarities, the cat-called threats, the porn-induced fantasies, the subway erections, the casting couches, the ogling bosses, the lecherous uncles, the pinches, the tweaks, the grabs, the unwanted kisses, the pinning against walls, the reminders that they are stronger (and they could do it, even if they didn’t), the ones-we-thought-were-friends who did not “stop,” the monsters who came out of nowhere to take what they wanted, the ones who laughed at our helplessness as they held us down, the ones who took turns with our bodies, and the ones who killed us, or left us for dead.

These traumas never go away. They only intensify with the slow realization that it is now our daughters’ turn to live through this unending nightmare of male violence.

It’s time to forge these memories of the past and fears for the future into a blade that will slice through the tangled knots of patriarchy, the boys’ club of pasty old men who only listen to other pasty old men. It’s time for our primal scream to echo through the streets and rattle every stone building where the criminals and their enablers hide. Let them witness us again, marching in the millions, fists in the air, throughout every city and every country. Let them know we will not go away this time. As we relentlessly pursue them for their wrongs, let them feel just a tiny sliver of the fear that engulfs our lives. Let your eyes burn holes through theirs, demanding rectitude. Let your mouth roar out, again and again, our infinite, excruciating stories until their psyches buckle under the weight of our aggregate r

Step up. Name names. Bear witness. Blame rapists. Believe victims

They forget that we are half the world. For all the women who came before us and all those who come after, we will oust the perpetrators and those who protect them.

We’ve been waiting all our lives for the momentum of this moment. Our ancestors look down at us, cheering us on. Our fury of today can stop the horrific screams of tomorrow. So swim through that ocean of tears cried by women across the world and across the centuries, and, one last time, wage this battle. Lock arms with our sisters and allies, and summon the fortitude to do what we must do.

Because those in power have made it abundantly clear: the respect we deserve and the justice we seek will not be given to us freely… we must take it.

https://hyperallergic.com/469146/the-momentum-of-this-moment-kate-kretz/