Frank Lloyd Wright turns 150

Frank Lloyd Wright, the influential American architect, interior designer, thinker, and educator, was born 150 years ago today. A leader of the Prairie School movement, Wright was a prolific practitioner of what he called “organic architecture”, which emphasized creating structures in harmony with humanity and its environment. Fallingwater, completed in 1939 in Pennsylvania and stretching over a thirty-foot waterfall, embodied this philosophy perfectly. Now a National Historic Landmark that has seen more than 4.5 million visitors, the house is only one of the more than 1,000 structures Wright designed across the span of a long career, 532 of which saw completion. His creations can be seen across America, from Wisconsin, to Arizona, to New York City, and his uncompleted designs range from a mile high tower he envisioned for Chicago to an opera house in Baghdad:

Frank Lloyd Wright’s plan for the Baghdad Opera House

The Press has published a number of important and lavishly illustrated books on the visionary architect over the years, including Modern Architecture by Wright himself. Recently, Neil Levine authored a followup study to his first landmark book on Wright. The new volume, The Urbanism of Frank Lloyd Wright, overturns the conventional view of Wright as an architect who deplored the city and whose urban vision was limited to a utopian plan for a network of agrarian communities he called Broadacre City. Rather, Levine reveals Wright’s larger, more varied, interesting, and complex urbanism. Will Wiles of Apollo Magazine hails the new volume enthusiastically: “The Urbanism of Frank Lloyd Wright is a companion to Levine’s landmark study The Architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright, published in 1997, and it is as monumental as might be inferred from the 20-year wait.”

Just out this spring is Wright on Exhibit, by Kathryn Smith, which offers the first history of Frank Lloyd Wright’s exhibitions of his own work—a practice central to his career. Take a peek.

Drawing extensively from his unpublished correspondence, Smith challenges the preconceived notion of Wright as a self-promoter who displayed his work in search of money, clients, and fame. She shows how he was an artist-architect projecting an avant-garde program, an innovator who expanded the palette of installation design as technology evolved, and a social activist driven to revolutionize society through design. Read more in a recent interview with Smith on the PUP blog.

Happy 150th to a visionary whose legacy continues to influence the way we live, build and innovate.

 

 

 

A peek inside Gillian Wearing and Claude Cahun: Behind the Mask, Another Mask

Gillian Wearing and Claude Cahun: Behind the Mask, Another Mask by Sarah Howgate draws together for the first time the work of French artist Claude Cahun (1894–1954) and British contemporary artist Gillian Wearing (b. 1963). Although they were born almost a century apart, their work shares similar themes—gender, identity, masquerade, and performance. Take a look inside this stunningly illustrated book containing reproductions of more than ninety key works.

Gillian Wearing and Claude Cahun: Behind the Mask, Another Mask by Sarah Howgate from Princeton University Press on Vimeo.

Sarah Howgate is senior curator of contemporary portraits at the National Portrait Gallery, London. She is the coauthor of Lucian Freund Portraits, 21st-Century Portraits and The Portrait Now. Dawn Ades is professor emerita of art history at the University of Essex and the author of Art in Latin America: The Modern Era, 1820–1980, among many other books.

The exhibits of Frank Lloyd Wright

SmithWright organized the majority of more than one hundred exhibitions of his work that were mounted between 1894 and his death in 1959, viewing them as crucial to his self-presentation as his extensive writings. Wright on Exhibit presents the first history of this neglected aspect of the architect’s influential career. Drawing extensively from Wright’s unpublished correspondence, Kathryn Smith shows that he was an artist-architect projecting an avant-garde program, an innovator who expanded the palette of installation design as technology evolved, and a social activist driven to revolutionize society through design. Placing Wright’s exhibitions side by side with his writings, Smith shows how integral these exhibitions were to his vision and sheds light on the broader discourse concerning architecture and modernism during the first half of the twentieth century. Wright on Exhibit features color renderings, photos, and plans—check some of them out here:

Kathryn Smith is an architectural historian who specializes in Frank Lloyd Wright. Her books include Frank Lloyd Wright: American Master; Frank Lloyd Wright, Hollyhock House, and Olive Hill: Buildings and Projects for Aline Barnsdall; and Schindler House. She lives in Santa Monica, California.

Wright on Exhibit: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Architectural Exhibitions

More than one hundred exhibitions of Frank Lloyd Wright’s work were mounted between 1894 and his death in 1959. Wright organized the majority of these exhibitions himself and viewed them as important to his self-presentation as his extensive writings. He used them to introduce his new work, appeal to a wide audience, and persuade his detractors. Wright on Exhibit presents the first history of this neglected aspect of the architect’s influential career.

Drawing extensively from Wright’s unpublished correspondence, Kathryn Smith challenges the preconceived notion of Wright as a self-promoter who displayed his work in search of money, clients, and fame. She shows how he was an artist-architect projecting an avant-garde program, an innovator who expanded the palette of installation design as technology evolved, and a social activist driven to revolutionize society through design. While Wright’s earliest exhibitions were largely for other architects, by the 1930s he was creating public installations intended to inspire debate and change public perceptions about architecture. The nature of his exhibitions expanded with the times beyond models, drawings, and photographs to include more immersive tools such as slides, film, and even a full-scale structure built especially for his 1953 retrospective at the Guggenheim Museum. Placing Wright’s exhibitions side by side with his writings, Smith shows how integral these exhibitions were to his vision.

Photograph by Pedro E. Guerrero

Q: What is different about Wright on Exhibit than other books you have written about Wright?

Kathryn Smith: I chose his architectural exhibitions during his lifetime because it was a finite subject that had real clarity and purpose. It provided a great framework to view how Wright favored his own work, how he prepared it in drawings and models, and how he dealt with the press, museums, the public, and contemporary architects. I live in Los Angeles, the location of the Getty Research Library, where Wright’s correspondence of 103,000 letters and documents are on deposit on microfiche. By 2016, I would say that I had read about 15,000 pieces of this correspondence. I knew his voice and his moods. I wanted that to come through to the reader by quoting the correspondence. It was one of my main purposes: to put the reader as much as possible into the moment.

Q: How many exhibitions are in your final count?

KS: My total is 124 exhibitions. There is a gap between 1915 and 1929. But from 1930 forward, there were at least one or more exhibitions–one man shows or surveys–every year until his death where my book stops.
I created two appendices: the list of all of the exhibitions and an illustrated catalogue raisonné of all known models, extant or lost. Even the list of models is staggering. There are 57.

Q: The excerpts from letters are vivid, but how did you illustrate the book?

KS: I was lucky because Wright clearly wanted to document his career. Beginning in 1907, he hired professionals to photograph his installations. I accumulated a good representation of black and white images of all the major exhibitions. But I learned that the shows themselves were rich in color. It was imperative to communicate this richness to the reader. The book has 57 color illustrations, primarily of drawings, and 188 half tones.

Q: Did you make any discoveries that surprised you?

KS: Yes, quite a few. I would say that there is a very vague outline in the mind of many people who have heard of the major exhibitions. They conjure up basically either positive or negative impressions. But that changes dramatically when the factual history is traced. For instance, “Sixty Years of Living Architecture” was conceived in Florence, Italy in 1948 and went through the most torturous three-year period of failed international diplomatic planning. Wright was completely ignorant of this activity. Yet, it finally opened due to the determination, the effort, and the financial support of a few individuals, American and Italian. It is a very compelling story, complete with cliffhangers. Almost all the major exhibitions I wrote about were dramatic with Wright threatening to pull out at the last minute.

 

Sixty Years of Living Architecture, poster, 1952 (Private collection)

Broadacre City exhibition, New York, 1935 (Scott Architectural Archive)

Q: What was the most memorable thing you learned about Wright?

KS: After the openings came the reviews. In some years, especially, before 1948, when there were a number of mixed or negative assessments, he felt downhearted and baffled. In truth, he had a rather thin skin. His most characteristic response was to turn to writing: he lashed out in anger at the critics. What I was struck by was Wright’s vulnerability. There were quite a few instances of negative criticism when he seemed to stand aside, like an outsider, not comprehending why the American people did not embrace him as their champion as he intended. It is true, he became a “starchitect,” in the parlance of our day; but he was looking for recognition of greater depth.

 

Kathryn Smith on Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural exhibitions

SmithMore than one hundred exhibitions of Frank Lloyd Wright’s work were mounted between 1894 and his death in 1959. Wright organized the majority of these exhibitions himself and viewed them as crucial to his self-presentation as his extensive writings. Wright on Exhibit by Kathryn Smith presents the first history of this neglected aspect of the architect’s influential career.

Drawing extensively from Wright’s unpublished correspondence, Smith challenges the preconceived notion of Wright as a self-promoter who displayed his work in search of money, clients, and fame. She shows how he was an artist-architect projecting an avant-garde program, an innovator who expanded the palette of installation design as technology evolved, and a social activist driven to revolutionize society through design. Smith recently took the time to answer a few questions about her new book.

There have been so many books published on Frank Lloyd Wright. Why should we be interested in another one?

KS: In that sense, and in other ways as well, Wright can be compared to Pablo Picasso. Wright is a seminal figure in the history of modern art. Blessed with longevity, his seventy productive years resulted in approximately one thousand built and unbuilt designs. Like Picasso, Wright still captures the general public’s imagination, both with his buildings and his persona. There is always an audience for Wright books, whether they are coffee table books, children’s books, biographies, or historical fiction. However, in the field of scholarly studies, the list is significantly shorter. Although he died in 1959, it was not until 1985 that his papers became available for in-depth research. I chose the subject of Wright’s architectural exhibitions organized during his lifetime—excluding the exhibitions he curated on Asian art—because I wanted to plumb the depths of his unpublished correspondence to create an exhibition history. While there are approximately 103,000 letters, telegrams, and cablegrams in the Wright Archive at the Avery Library at Columbia University, it was also necessary for me to answer many questions by consulting the repositories at New York’s Museum of Modern Art and the Archives of American Art in Washington D.C., among others.

Why did you choose the subject of architectural exhibitions?

KS: Architectural exhibitions—and even architectural exhibitions about architectural exhibitions—have a global currency today. In addition to the well-established Venice Architecture Biennial and the Milan Triennial, there are generally architectural exhibitions going on somewhere in the world every month: in art institutes, world expositions, European and Asian museums, galleries, and architecture schools. The growing list includes Seoul Biennial of Architecture and Urbanism, Chicago Architecture Biennial, and International Bienniale Rotterdam. Shows are mounted in institutions such as the Museum of Modern Art, New York, the Canadian Centre for Architecture, Montreal and the Swedish Centre for Architecture and Design, Stockholm; but also in alternative spaces such as the Storefront for Art and Architecture in Manhattan. There are now organizations dedicated to architectural exhibitions in Zurich, Copenhagen, and New York. Events have been curated in cities in order to experience the urban core as a three-dimensional exhibition in time and space.

While contemporary activity is growing exponentially, scholarship on historic exhibitions of modern architecture is slight in comparison, especially in regard to the United States. An exception is MoMA: Terence Riley, Barry Bergdoll, Wallis Miller, Mary Anne Staniszewski, and Mardges Bacon have written major articles that have contributed to our understanding of many aspects of MoMA’s exhibitions. One major fact I learned in my research was that, although Wright was intimately involved with the majority of his exhibitions during his lifetime, he was just as frustrated at the severe limitations of simulacra—drawings, models, and photographs—as his counterparts are today. One of my discoveries was that as an artist-architect, rather than as a museum curator or critic, his major concern was not to create a chronological narrative. Instead, he was driven to shape public installations of his built and unbuilt work to communicate his ideas about the man-made and natural environment to stimulate public discourse and effect societal change. This point of view resonates today. Wright on Exhibit, which is a framework for evaluating installation practice, provides a cultural and historical context for a burgeoning movement.

We normally think of museum staff and art professionals organizing exhibitions. Did Wright’s exhibitions deviate from that model?

KS: Yes, they did, for the most part. That was one of the revelations of my research. I was really amazed at the origins of his approach in late-nineteenth-century Chicago and how he applied it in various circumstances from the 1930s until his death in 1959—to the shock and chagrin of his collaborators. His formative years from 1894 to 1914 were spent exhibiting with the Chicago Architectural Club, an organization of architects and draftsmen that held an open annual juried exhibition. Wright never became a member, but his major exhibitions in those years were under their sponsorship. From 1902 to 1914, he demanded and received a separate gallery to mount one-man shows, which he curated and designed and for which he wrote and designed catalogs and accompanying booklets. Sometimes the synergy of all this effort would result in publication in a national periodical such as the Architectural Record. This was a pattern that he maintained throughout his career. Sometimes it worked beautifully. Everything came together rather smoothly. On other occasions, there was opposition which erupted into confrontations that became fodder for the local press. In 1914, he was forty-seven years old; by that time his exhibition methodology was fully formed. One of the important facts about Wright is that, like Picasso, he lived to within a few months of his ninety-second birthday and he was at the pinnacle of his reputation at the end in 1959. So you see, his exhibition history continued for another forty-five years. These years constitute almost a separate study.

Is Wright on Exhibit meant to be humorous?

KS: No. Some readers may think so when they read certain passages, but I would say vivid is a better word. Wright was an exceptional letter writer. He also composed extraordinary telegrams and cablegrams, often at the height of a crisis and sometimes several in one day. I think by this point in my career I have read about 15,000 pieces of correspondence in the Wright Archive over the decades. I felt that the wealth of material on this subject—and I mean thousands of letters—demanded that his voice and that of his correspondents be heard. I wanted the reader to enter into the events to correct the stereotypes of Wright and figures such as Philip Johnson, his main contact at MoMA in 1931-32 and between 1947 and 1953. This is another instance that proves there are not enough scholarly books about Wright because clearly these stereotypes have been repeated in popular books and magazines without any knowledge of the primary material. The relationship between Wright and Johnson, and between Wright and MoMA, for that matter, required a completely new investigation and analysis. What I concluded was that what previous generations believed was negative about Wright’s involvement with MoMA was the opposite.

Could you provide an example?

KS: Yes. The first MoMA architectural show in 1932, Modern Architecture: International Exhibition, which is generally referred to misleadingly as the “International Style” exhibition. Certainly, the organizers—Johnson, Henry-Russell Hitchcock, and Alfred H. Barr Jr.—intended to limit the scope to European architects; however, the museum trustees subsequently required equal representation by Americans. The four Europeans had to be matched by four Americans. Wright was left off the list. By 1931-32, he had not built much for a decade and many regarded him as retired at sixty-five years old. But the trustees had widened the parameters of the subject matter to modern architecture and Hitchcock, the eminent historian, included him as the ninth architect. Although Johnson initiated a ten-month period of planning with Wright, the correspondence proves that almost nothing was accomplished until the last sixty days. While many have speculated that Wright did not want to participate in Modern Architecture because he turned his back on Le Corbusier, Mies, and Gropius, this is erroneous. He demanded to be withdrawn at the last minute when he found out that Raymond Hood and Richard Neutra were on the list of nine architects. As to Hood, Wright believed he was a cynical businessman who merely copied fashionable styles of the day for financial profit; Neutra was a more complicated case. At this time, Wright wrote him off as someone who was more of a self-promoter than a genuine original. But Wright remained in the show, which toured America for two years. His inclusion alongside the leaders of the younger generation and, for the most part, Hitchcock’s serious evaluation in Modern Architecture, the museum catalog (a publication, it should be pointed out, which was distinct from the commercially published book, The International Style), reinvigorated Wright. The greatest impact of the 1932 MoMA show was that it was a turning point for him. It was the prologue to the most productive and critically acclaimed era of his career. Six years later, he had a one-building show at MoMA featuring Fallingwater, the country house for Edgar and Lilianne Kaufmann. The whole factual history of Wright and Johnson between 1931 and 1932 is a fascinating one and completely unknown today. By the end of 1932, contrary to common belief, Johnson became Wright’s champion. This is documented in the correspondence and other primary sources contemporary with events. I explain all the circumstances in my book. My view of Johnson changed after I made these discoveries. Johnson left MoMA in 1934, so it was more than a decade before he connected with Wright again.

Wright on Exhibit is generously illustrated, in black and white and color. What was your thinking?

KS: I was very fortunate that Wright often commissioned photographers to document his installations, even as early as 1907; but the documentation was in black and white, while the drawings on display were rich in color; as were most of his models, later in the 1940s and onward. Very early on when I was conceptualizing my book I decided to illustrate drawings and some models in color so the reader would have a more intimate connection with the subject. It was at this point that I singled out in my mind the book designer, Miko McGinty, as the perfect fit for my concept. When the time came, I was very pleased that McGinty and her associates, Rita Jules and Anjali Pala, agreed to work with Princeton University Press on the project. They created the ideal layout. I think the book looks stunning. My hope is that as the reader turns the pages he or she will be able to visualize how lush these exhibitions were for the visitors who experienced them originally.

Wright on Exhibit has two appendices; why did you include them?

KS: From the beginning, I wanted to provide scholars and institutions with a complete catalog of Wright’s exhibitions from 1894 to 1959 (the year of his death) complete with facts such as title, dates, and locations, at the minimum. I was able to exceed that goal by adding names of curators, organizers, and sponsors. The total count is 124 exhibitions. The second appendix came about over the course of my research when I learned that Wright made models primarily for exhibitions rather than as study models (as most architects do today). Since I had images of the models, and from the correspondence, I was able to pinpoint exact dates when certain models were fabricated during Wright’s lifetime. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to create an illustrated catalogue raisonné of all known models, existing and lost. Since the majority of the 57 models are no longer extant, my book will be the only complete visual record of this aspect of Wright’s architectural production. There are various compendiums of the drawings, but this book fills a gap in the scholarship; no catalog exists of the models made under Wright’s supervision. Of particular note, for example, are the two Guggenheim Museum models (the first one was damaged in transit and then replaced by a new more updated version of the design). Both models were extremely complicated because Wright had created one of his most powerful public rooms and he wanted to communicate the intricacies of the interior space. So he designed the models to come apart in sections. Few people realize that today because the model is normally exhibited as a whole. I have provided several images of each model to illustrate Wright’s original intentions. I think the two appendices will make Wright on Exhibit an important reference book for decades to come. As you see, I created the book to appeal to a broad audience and to serve a variety of purposes. In addition to the archival material, I have written the book in clear, easily accessible prose for scholars and students, but also for readers outside academia who are interested in Wright and/or modern architecture, in general.

You have also written about a selection of Wright’s articles and other publications as well as exhibition planning and installation design. How does that fit in with the subject of your book?

KS: That was another discovery I made that was unanticipated. Really, it was a complete surprise. Writing articles and delivering lectures was a part of the culture of Chicago’s nineteenth century progressive architectural world, which revolved around the Chicago Architectural Club. The primary influence was Louis H. Sullivan, who had been Wright’s employer and mentor. Wright was forged in this milieu; he came away with a sense of purpose that went beyond inventing new forms, experimenting with Machine Age materials, and serving a new social class. He believed he was creating a New World that had existed only in the promise of “virgin” America before European settlement. He called his crusade, “In the Cause of Architecture.” And, indeed, it was a cause; one which he held to until the end of his life. Although there were multiple purposes for his exhibitions, which changed depending on the time and the location, in his mind they were always exercises in realizing the cause, which amounted to realizing a “genuine” American architecture by rejecting European styles. His drawings, models, and photographs were on display to communicate that message to the American people. However, when reviews appeared, he frequently found negative criticism baffling. He often believed that he was being misunderstood; as a result, he turned to writing for clarification. Most of his exhibitions, as a result, had a literary component to them; sometimes, the booklet or periodical reprint was available simultaneously with the exhibition; at other times, there was a lag time of one or more years. On many occasions, the exhibition would be accompanied by one or more public lectures by Wright. So the typical Wright exhibition was a product of the architectural and the literary.

With a total of 124 exhibitions, did Wright actually organize all of them?

KS: No, it is more complicated than that. Due to the fact that he owned all of his drawings and models and had a collection of photographs of his built work, it was necessary that Wright participate as lender for most exhibitions. This proved very problematical with institutions such as the Museum of Modern Art when as the date of the opening drew closer, he began to take over all aspects of the organization such as curating and designing the exhibition. In one instance, at MoMA in 1940-41, the show actually had two titles: the one MoMA advertised and the one Wright gave it! After this experience, MoMA got around the problem in the 1940s by taking advantage of the fact that commercial photographers owned images of Wright’s built work. For instance, MoMA bypassed Wright by staging an exhibition of photographs of Taliesin and Taliesin West by Ezra Stoller. But, yes, for the most part he wanted and maintained a great deal of control. I think it will come as a revelation to most people today already knowing how prolific Wright was as an architect, how productive he was as a writer, when they discover how seamlessly he incorporated exhibition production into his practice for sixty-five years. A case in point: while dedicated to the construction of the Guggenheim Museum in 1959, he was in the midst of planning a touring show of his recent work when he died at the age of ninety-one. This aspect of Wright’s career is virtually unknown, but it is a key part of the history of modern architecture.

Kathryn Smith is an architectural historian who specializes in Frank Lloyd Wright. Her books include Frank Lloyd Wright: American Master; Frank Lloyd Wright, Hollyhock House, and Olive Hill: Buildings and Projects for Aline Barnsdall; and Wright on Exhibit: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Architectural Exhibitions. She lives in Santa Monica, California.

A peek inside The Art of Philosophy by Susanna Berger

Delving into the intersections between artistic images and philosophical knowledge in Europe from the late sixteenth to the early eighteenth centuries, The Art of Philosophy shows that the making and study of visual art functioned as important methods of philosophical thinking and instruction. Featuring previously unpublished prints and drawings from the early modern period and lavish gatefolds, The Art of Philosophy reveals the essential connections between visual commentary and philosophical thought. Watch the trailer to learn more:

The Art of Philosophy: Visual Thinking in Europe from the Late Renaissance to the Early Enlightenment by Susanna Berger from Princeton University Press on Vimeo.

Susanna Berger is assistant professor of art history at the University of Southern California.

A peek inside The Art of Philosophy

Delving into the intersections between artistic images and philosophical knowledge in Europe from the late sixteenth to the early eighteenth centuries, The Art of Philosophy shows that the making and study of visual art functioned as important methods of philosophical thinking and instruction. From frontispieces of books to monumental prints created by philosophers in collaboration with renowned artists, Susanna Berger examines visual representations of philosophy and overturns prevailing assumptions about the limited function of the visual in European intellectual history. Take a peek inside:

A peek inside Chinese Painting and its Audiences

ClunasBased on the A.W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts given at the National Gallery of Art, Chinese Painting and its Audiences defines Chinese painting, explores its origins, and studies it’s relationship with viewers. Leading art historian Craig Clunas draws from a wealth of artistic masterpieces and lesser-known paintings to show how Chinese painting has been understood by a range of audiences, from the Ming Dynasty to today. Arguing that audiences within China were crucially important to the evolution of Chinese painting, Clunas considers how Chinese artists have imagined the reception of their own work. By looking at paintings that depict people looking at paintings, he introduces readers to ideal types of viewers: the scholar, the gentleman, the merchant, the nation, and the people. Just in time for Asia Week New York, here’s a sneak peek at some of the images, some of which are discussed here in English for the first time:

 

Craig Clunas is Professor of the History of Art at the University of Oxford. His books include Screen of Kings: Royal Art and Power in Ming China, Empire of Great Brightness: Visual and Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modern China, and Art in China.

Craig Clunas on Chinese Painting and its Audiences

ClunasWhat is Chinese painting? When did it begin? And what are the different associations of this term in China and the West? In Chinese Painting and Its Audiences, which is based on the A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts given at the National Gallery of Art, leading art historian Craig Clunas draws from a wealth of artistic masterpieces and lesser-known pictures to show how Chinese painting has been understood by a range of audiences over five centuries, from the Ming Dynasty to today. Recently, Clunas took the time to answer some questions about the book.

There are lots of books about Chinese art, what’s the particular scope of this one?

CC: This book isn’t about the whole of Chinese art, but it looks at the important art of painting in China over the last five hundred years or so, from the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) to the very recent past. It does it not from the point of view of the creation of Chinese painting but through a history of looking at it, and a history of the types of viewers who have formed the very diverse audiences for it over those centuries.

If I don’t know much about Chinese culture, will I be able to understand this book?

CC: I hope anybody interested in art can get something from this book. It has its origins in a lecture series, the A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts, held regularly at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, since 1953. In 2012 I gave these lectures (with the same title as the book); that’s only the second time in over sixty years that art from China has been the focus of a Mellon Lecture series. So I was very conscious of addressing a non-specialist audience, of people with an interest in the visual arts generally but without any specific expertise, and I’ve tried to keep the technicalities to a minimum in the main text, while still providing the evidence for other scholars to judge the strength of my arguments. When people say, ‘I don’t know anything about Chinese art,’ they often in fact already have a strong set of preconceptions, and I want to dispel some of these by showing the actual variety of painting being produced over a long time span, including work made in China in the past which tends to get left out of the category called ‘Chinese painting’ today.

How would you break down the main argument? 

CC: Obviously, back in the sixteenth century people in China who viewed a work by a famous painter of the day, or an old master from the past, didn’t think of what they were looking at as ‘Chinese painting.’ To them, it was just ‘painting.’ Today, whether in the Chinese-speaking world or outside it, the category ‘Chinese painting’ is the meaningful one we use to describe both historic painting and contemporary work of certain kinds. The book looks at how this came about, and shows how it was through the actions of viewers that this cultural category was formed, concentrating on certain kinds of pictures and marginalizing others. I’m claiming that the understanding of Chinese painting in some ways ran before it could walk, making big generalizations about the subject before much of the detailed work was done. These generalizations then fed into art history as a whole, where ‘Chinese painting’ stands as probably the major counter-example to the western tradition of art. I’m arguing here that the category ‘Chinese painting’ isn’t a timeless essence of Chinese culture, or an imposition on China from outside, but the result of a complex set of historical processes involving different types of audiences.

How does the book do this? 

CC: Firstly, by showing a fresh and broad set of images, you can’t write about pictures without showing them! The book is very heavily illustrated; it includes some familiar paintings which everybody already interested in the topic might recognize (though I hope they are talked about in a new way), but it also has lots of unfamiliar images, pictures which haven’t been widely reproduced before. I hope every reader will see something surprising and something beautiful. At the book’s heart are a sequence of what to me are really interesting paintings of different types of people – men and women, emperors and merchants, scholars and gallery-goers – looking at paintings. These pictures which take viewing as their subject can tell us a lot. They are at the core of a sequence of chapters which roughly speaking takes the topic from the fifteenth century to our own time, looking at a number of ideal audiences for Chinese painting; I’ve called these: the gentleman, the emperor, the merchant, the nation, the people. I’ve tried to balance analysis of the images themselves with the context in which they were produced, and to look at audiences both inside and outside China, which go back a lot longer than people might imagine. I’m obviously dependent on the specialist scholarship of other writers, and I’ve tried to pull together some of this work to give readers who might be interested in knowing more about a particular topic a sense of some of the great work being done now on Chinese painting. You can now read extensively in English about Chinese painting theory and criticism, and the lives of individual artists, over a broad time span. I’d be pleased if this book made people just a bit more aware of that great body of knowledge, and of the sheer scale of China’s artistic production.

How do you think this book might be received in China? 

CC: I’ve written other books on Chinese art, mostly of the Ming period, which have been translated into Chinese, and what I find interesting (and a bit surprising) is how some Chinese readers find contemporary resonances in books which I thought of when I wrote them as being ‘just’ about history. So I’ve come to accept that the history we write is never ‘just’ about the past. I’ve also learned (and this would be one of the main arguments of the book) that it’s wrong to imagine some homogeneous ‘Chinese view’ of painting or anything else, as if everybody in that huge country thought the same way. I hope some readers there might find it intriguing, and that even if they don’t like its way of arguing they would recognise the respect I feel for one of the world’s great bodies of art and human creativity.

How do you see the story of Chinese painting and its audiences developing in the future? 

CC: Painting, whether in brush and ink or oil on canvas, is only one of the practices of the visual arts in China today, but it remains an extremely important one. This is not least because the boom in the art market in China makes works of both past and present hugely valuable commodities. It seems pretty unlikely to me that the significant collections of Chinese painting outside China (whether in museums or in private hands) will grow very much in the future, the gravitational pull of the Chinese market is now just too strong. But the digital reproduction of artworks, which is proceeding now at a terrific pace, may mean that the physical location of paintings will matter less and less, their audiences will become more global and the composition of these audiences will get more and more diverse. That’s perhaps going to make it harder and harder for a restrictive definition of ‘Chinese painting’ to sustain itself, and maybe in time it will just be part of something called ‘painting’ again, or – who knows – even the dominant strand within it.

Craig Clunas is the Professor of History of Art of Oxford University in England. His books include Screen of Kings: Royal Art and Power in Ming China, Empire of Great Brightness: Visual and Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modern China, and Art in China.

Asia Week New York: March 9–18

Asia Week New York is an annual event in which top-tier Asian art specialists, major auction houses, museums, and Asian cultural institutions collaborate to honor and promote Asian art in New York City. Since 2009, the Asia Week New York Association has focused its efforts on putting together an event-filled week that draws collectors and curators from across the globe. If you’re going to be in the area, be sure to make time for some of the exciting special sales, lectures, receptions, and tours taking place in NYC. Here at PUP, we’re thrilled to be publishing two books that celebrate Asian art this season—Chinese Painting and Its Audiences by Craig Clunas and Kanban by Alan Scott Pate—and to revisit a favorite backlist title—Preserving the Dharma by John M. Rosenfield. If you can’t attend the events, you can always join the conversation on social media using the hashtag #AsiaWeekNY.

Exploring the complex relationships between works of art and those who look at them, Chinese Painting and Its Audiences sheds new light on how the concept of Chinese painting has been formed and reformed over hundreds of years.

Clunas

Providing a look into a unique, handmade world, Alan Scott Pate offers new insights into Japan’s commercial and artistic roots, the evolution of trade, the links between commerce and entertainment, and the emergence of mass consumer culture in Kanban: Traditional Shop Signs of Japan.

Kanban

In Preserving the Dharma: Hōzan Tankai and Japanese Buddhist Art of the Early Modern Era, eminent art historian John Rosenfield explores the life and art of the Japanese Buddhist monk Hozan Tankai (1629–1716).

Dharma

Featured image: The Art of Japan (Medina, WA) Torii Kotondo Beauty Combing her Hair 1933

A peek inside The Atlas of Ancient Rome

The highly anticipated English-language edition of The Atlas of Ancient Rome is now available. Eager for a sneak peek inside? Check out the trailer below, and be sure to visit the new website for an interview with the editor, Andrea Carandini, as well as additional information on this definitive illustrated reference book of Rome from its origins to the sixth century AD.

The Atlas of Ancient Rome: Biography and Portraits of the City, Edited by Andrea Carandini from Princeton University Press on Vimeo.

12 Facts from Red: The History of a Color

RedOver the years, the color red has represented many things, from the life force and the divine to love, lust, and anger. Throughout the Middle Ages, this vibrant color held a place of privilege in the Western world. For many cultures, red was not just one color, but rather the only color worthy enough to be used for social purposes. In this beautifully illustrated book, Michel Pastoureau, the acclaimed author of Blue, Black, and Green, illuminates red’s evolution through a diverse selection of images that include the cave paintings of Lascaux, Renaissance masters, and the modern paintings and stained glass of Mark Rothko and Josef Albers. How much do you know about the history and symbolism of red?

In many languages, the same word can mean “red,” “beautiful,” and “colorful” all at once. Coloratus in classical Latin and colorado in modern Castilian can both mean “red,” or simply “colored.”

In Russian, the word for “red” shares a common root with the word for “beautiful.” Krasnyy and krasivy respectively.

The image of a white, somber Greece, inherited from historians and theoreticians of neoclassicism, is false. The Greeks made use of vivid, contrasting colors.

Vases with red figures appeared in Athens abut 530-520 BCE, presenting a background painted uniformly black with figures worked in relief that took the red color of the clay upon firing. The drawings were more precise than what had come before, the realism greater, and the subjects more varied.

In ancient Rome, cinnabar was a popular medium for making red despite its high price and dangerous nature—it is a powerful poison. For example, it was present throughout Pompeii in wall painting.

Dyeing, like painting, was first achieved in ranges of red.

Henna is a bush that grows in warm regions whose leaves when dried and reduced to a powder provide a colorant for dyeing in red or in reddish brown.

Throughout their history, Roman dyers seem to have been most skilled in the range of reds, purples, oranges, and yellows. Celtic and German dyers were most successful with greens and blues.

The flag of the Crusades was white with a red cross, symbolically representing the blood of Christ and representing the blood that the soldiers were willing to spill to free the Holy Lands.

In the Middle Ages, judges were most often dressed in red, the color of their delegated power and their function: to state the law and render judgments in the place king, prince, city or state. The angel who expelled Adam and Even from Paradise was depicted in red clothing: an angelic dispenser of justice.

In the medieval period, red was both feminine and masculine—virile and full of grace. On the feminine side, it represented love, radiance, and beauty. For men, it was the color of courage and power.

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For more on the history and symbolism of this vibrant color, read Red: The History of a Color. You can also enter our giveaway for a chance to win a copy, and be sure to share your red photos with us on Twitter and Instagram using the hashtag #PUPRed.

Michel Pastoureau is a historian and director of studies at the École Pratique des Hautes Études de la Sorbonne in Paris. A specialist in the history of colors, symbols, and heraldry, he is the author of many books, including Red: The History of a Color.