Sunday, December 09, 2007
The New Climate
Robin Cembalest writes about the role that artists, arts institutions play in the revival and reconstruction of downtown New York + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnews.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=1012
The Road To Venice
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
5
Justly famous by right of his own paintings, Giovanni is also renowned as the master of some of the greatest painters Venice ever saw, chief among his pupils being Giorgione and Titian. The first was born at Castelfranco in 1470, and was christened Giorgio, but ‘from his stature and the greatness of his mind he was afterwards known as Giorgione,’ that is to say, ‘Great George.’ Though of peasant origin, contemporaries say he was ‘well bred and polished all his life.’ He was of a loving disposition and exceedingly fond of the lute, ‘playing and singing divinely,’ and this love of music became the new note which Giorgione definitely contributed to art, for not only did he frequently introduce music as a subject in his pictures (e.g ‘The Concert’ at Dresden, and the man playing a mandolin in ‘The Golden Age’ at the National Gallery, and the ‘Fete Champetre’ or Musical Party in the Louvre), but all his pictures, as Walter Pater wrote, ‘constantly aspire to the condition of music.’ By this it is meant that everything in a Giorgione is subordinated to beauty, and that his first concern is to create melody of line and harmony of color.
The gentle nature of the artist, who found grace and loveliness in all men and all things, can be traced in every work of his that has survived the storms of time. In his great altar-piece ‘Madonna Enthroned, with St. Liberale and St. Francis,’ for his native hill town of Castelfranco, painted before he was thirty, Giorgione charms us alike by the rhythm and balance of the whole composition and by the lovableness of his types. The sweet simplicity of young womanhood in the Virgin, the naturalness of the Child, the knightliness of the soldier-saint Liberale, the welcoming gesture of the nature-loving Saint who could preach to birds and fishes and call them his brethren—all these things are manifest in the illustration of this beautiful picture.
It is a great misfortune that so many of Giorgione’s paintings have been lost or destroyed in the course of centuries. Barely a score are known for certain to exist today, but among them are some of the most splendid portraits in the world. His ‘Young Man’ in the Berlin Gallery and his ‘Unknown Man’ in the Querini-Stampalia Collection at Venice are examples of his power in portraiture.
Vasari tells us that Giorgione ‘did a picture of Christ bearing the Cross and a Jew dragging him along, which after a time was placed in the Church of St. Rocco, and now works miracles, as we see, through the devotion of the multitudes who visit it.’ We can form some idea of what the exceeding beauty of this painting must have been from the unforgettable head of ‘Christ bearing the Cross,’ which still exists in the private collection of Mrs Gardner, of Boston, USA.
But, alas! not a fragment has survived of the famous picture which Giorgione painted to prove the superiority of painting to sculpture. While Verrocchio was in Venice engaged upon the bronze horse of his splendid Colleone Monument, his admirers argued that sculpture, which presented so many aspects of a figure, was superior to painting. Giorgione maintained that a painting could show at a single glance all the aspects that a man can present, while sculpture can only do so if one walks about it, and thus he proved his contention:
‘He painted a nude figure turning its shoulders; at its feet was a limpid fount of water, the reflection from which showed the front. On one side was a burnished corselet, which had been taken off and gave a side view, because the shining metal reflected everything. On the other side was a mirror showing the other side of the figure.’
The scarcity of Giorgione’s work is partly explained by the fact that he died young. In 1510 he was deeply in love with a Venetian lady, who caught the plague, but ‘Giorgione, being ignorant of this, associated with her as usual, took the infection, and died soon after at the age of thirty four, to the infinite grief of his friends, who loved him for his talents, and to the damage of the world which lost him.’
5
Justly famous by right of his own paintings, Giovanni is also renowned as the master of some of the greatest painters Venice ever saw, chief among his pupils being Giorgione and Titian. The first was born at Castelfranco in 1470, and was christened Giorgio, but ‘from his stature and the greatness of his mind he was afterwards known as Giorgione,’ that is to say, ‘Great George.’ Though of peasant origin, contemporaries say he was ‘well bred and polished all his life.’ He was of a loving disposition and exceedingly fond of the lute, ‘playing and singing divinely,’ and this love of music became the new note which Giorgione definitely contributed to art, for not only did he frequently introduce music as a subject in his pictures (e.g ‘The Concert’ at Dresden, and the man playing a mandolin in ‘The Golden Age’ at the National Gallery, and the ‘Fete Champetre’ or Musical Party in the Louvre), but all his pictures, as Walter Pater wrote, ‘constantly aspire to the condition of music.’ By this it is meant that everything in a Giorgione is subordinated to beauty, and that his first concern is to create melody of line and harmony of color.
The gentle nature of the artist, who found grace and loveliness in all men and all things, can be traced in every work of his that has survived the storms of time. In his great altar-piece ‘Madonna Enthroned, with St. Liberale and St. Francis,’ for his native hill town of Castelfranco, painted before he was thirty, Giorgione charms us alike by the rhythm and balance of the whole composition and by the lovableness of his types. The sweet simplicity of young womanhood in the Virgin, the naturalness of the Child, the knightliness of the soldier-saint Liberale, the welcoming gesture of the nature-loving Saint who could preach to birds and fishes and call them his brethren—all these things are manifest in the illustration of this beautiful picture.
It is a great misfortune that so many of Giorgione’s paintings have been lost or destroyed in the course of centuries. Barely a score are known for certain to exist today, but among them are some of the most splendid portraits in the world. His ‘Young Man’ in the Berlin Gallery and his ‘Unknown Man’ in the Querini-Stampalia Collection at Venice are examples of his power in portraiture.
Vasari tells us that Giorgione ‘did a picture of Christ bearing the Cross and a Jew dragging him along, which after a time was placed in the Church of St. Rocco, and now works miracles, as we see, through the devotion of the multitudes who visit it.’ We can form some idea of what the exceeding beauty of this painting must have been from the unforgettable head of ‘Christ bearing the Cross,’ which still exists in the private collection of Mrs Gardner, of Boston, USA.
But, alas! not a fragment has survived of the famous picture which Giorgione painted to prove the superiority of painting to sculpture. While Verrocchio was in Venice engaged upon the bronze horse of his splendid Colleone Monument, his admirers argued that sculpture, which presented so many aspects of a figure, was superior to painting. Giorgione maintained that a painting could show at a single glance all the aspects that a man can present, while sculpture can only do so if one walks about it, and thus he proved his contention:
‘He painted a nude figure turning its shoulders; at its feet was a limpid fount of water, the reflection from which showed the front. On one side was a burnished corselet, which had been taken off and gave a side view, because the shining metal reflected everything. On the other side was a mirror showing the other side of the figure.’
The scarcity of Giorgione’s work is partly explained by the fact that he died young. In 1510 he was deeply in love with a Venetian lady, who caught the plague, but ‘Giorgione, being ignorant of this, associated with her as usual, took the infection, and died soon after at the age of thirty four, to the infinite grief of his friends, who loved him for his talents, and to the damage of the world which lost him.’
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
My friend and associate in Antwerp called me ‘faint heart’, but this time I was right and he was wrong. We had not gone our several ways above eighteen months when his fortune, which at one time may have reached the seven-figure mark in sterling, was swept away. But I consider that Fate did not, after all, deal unkindly with him. No one was the worse by a penny for his misadventure, and he himself was taken off suddenly, before he really felt poverty. His faults, and he had some, were such as the advantages of education might have eliminated, and his good qualities many. An untruth was an abomination to him. He dealt fairly, fave generously, and of him it might be said with justice that ‘loyalty’ was his middle name.
Such was my large scale dealing in diamonds, playing credits against thousands of pounds’ worth of goods over two continents. There are other sides to the game, however, and I have known most of them. One memory I have of a certain Malayan adventure, which I would not have missed for worlds. It was a fine, delicate, leisurely flavor, full of the adventure of Eastern trading. I will see if I can impart it to you.
There are still some parts of an ever-narrowing world left where an itinerant diamond merchant may unload a larger parcel of brilliants on an unsophisticated housewife than on the local goldsmith, usually, of course, at a better profit! Whether the good woman decides to pay in cash or in monthly instalments, the dealer knows his money is safe, for the Chinese ladies of Malaya are scrupulously honest.
I heard of one likely spot—this was during my Singapore days—and I determined to enlarge my circle of private customers, even though it must involve an automobile journey of four hundred miles, by roads none too good, and across narrow, rickety wooden bridges which might at any moment conspire with the fatalistic speed-maniac at the wheel to precipitate me into a crocodile-infested swamp.
When mercifully I arrived at my destination in an unmutilated condition, I did not know a single soul in the district, and had I not taken the precaution of providing myself with a letter of introduction to one Mirzah, I might have come away at once a sadly disappointed man. This introduction had been scribbled in Arabic Malay upon a half-sheet torn from a motor-accessory dealer’s price list. I could not read it, and for all I knew its contents might have proved embarrassing to me. But I was already taking so many risks that one more didn’t matter. If I knew nothing at all of this Mirzah to whose good offices I was commended, at least his friend, my introducer, was a propertied man and had supplied me with two cans of petrol. But all he had been willing to say of Mirzah was that he acted sometimes as a go-between for merchants if he liked their looks. My prospects of enlisting his cooperation, therefore, were of the slenderest.
When I presented myself at Mirzah’s tin-roofed one-roomed shack he was still at his early morning devotions. After he had perused my introduction, he scrutinized me carefully and then declared with an air of deep gratitude, that I had been sent by Heaven itself. It required little intuition on my part to divine that Mirzah’s cupboard was not overstocked, for hollower cheeks than his I had as yet not encountered in all my journeying across the Malay Peninsular.
There is an Oriental saying which I remembered as I faced my broker-to-be. It says that the All-Merciful never sends one of his winged messengers to earth, but chooses quite an ordinary mortal in pursuit of his own selfish ends, for bringing succour to the needy and comfort to the distressed.
In my eagerness to make the most of the few hours I had allotted to the small township, I asked at once whether Mirzah knew of anyone who stood in urgent need of diamonds. Mirzah replied that it was an ill things to discuss such important business on an empty stomach (he was doubtless referring to his own). I at once agreed to postpone my business until he had broken his fast, for after all, it was only seven, a little more than an hour after sunrise. He offered me the loan of his best rattan rocking chair in which to compose my salesman’s ardor, and went on. I suspected that he had gone to get credit for provender on the strength of his prospects with me, for the news of my arrival in town had already reached the ears of even the most sluggard risers. Meanwhile I took a mental inventory of my host’s possessions.
Upon a large square of grass mat stood a solid hardwood table, surrounded by several high-backed chairs, which have evidence of being home-made. Two rocking chairs had apparently seen several generations come and go. A polished brass vase or two and a cheap color print on a wall, depicting their British Majesties, supplied the decorations. One outsize spittoon represented utility. The room itself was portioned off by a drab cotton curtain reaching halfway to the bare rafters, and hung loosely suspended from a thin, tautly stretched wire rope. Occasionally this curtain bulged and I thought I saw an eye applied to a convenient spy hole. Mirzah’s harem was slaking its curiosity.
Presently Mirzah returned with an armful of provisions. After some delay they were passed back to him through the curtain in the semblance of a substantial breakfast. He ate, I smoked. At length he was willing to talk business. He vouchsafed that there was a wealthy Chinese lady who had long waiting for such as me. She might be game for a good five carat stone, at a reasonable price, but he warned me that she knew what was what. There were also others, he told me, who might be tempted, but first call must be made on the old lady in the fine big house on the top of the hill. I would place myself entirely in his hands, I said, adding that I was ready to go. But he insisted that first he must send his serving-man to make sure that our visit was welcome. The man returned immediately to say we could come as soon as we liked, but Mirzah was not yet ready. He owed it to the English merchant, he said, and to the lady of the fine house on the hill, to make the most of himself. This time he disappeared for a long while behind the curtain, and when he came forth he was transformed.
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
My friend and associate in Antwerp called me ‘faint heart’, but this time I was right and he was wrong. We had not gone our several ways above eighteen months when his fortune, which at one time may have reached the seven-figure mark in sterling, was swept away. But I consider that Fate did not, after all, deal unkindly with him. No one was the worse by a penny for his misadventure, and he himself was taken off suddenly, before he really felt poverty. His faults, and he had some, were such as the advantages of education might have eliminated, and his good qualities many. An untruth was an abomination to him. He dealt fairly, fave generously, and of him it might be said with justice that ‘loyalty’ was his middle name.
Such was my large scale dealing in diamonds, playing credits against thousands of pounds’ worth of goods over two continents. There are other sides to the game, however, and I have known most of them. One memory I have of a certain Malayan adventure, which I would not have missed for worlds. It was a fine, delicate, leisurely flavor, full of the adventure of Eastern trading. I will see if I can impart it to you.
There are still some parts of an ever-narrowing world left where an itinerant diamond merchant may unload a larger parcel of brilliants on an unsophisticated housewife than on the local goldsmith, usually, of course, at a better profit! Whether the good woman decides to pay in cash or in monthly instalments, the dealer knows his money is safe, for the Chinese ladies of Malaya are scrupulously honest.
I heard of one likely spot—this was during my Singapore days—and I determined to enlarge my circle of private customers, even though it must involve an automobile journey of four hundred miles, by roads none too good, and across narrow, rickety wooden bridges which might at any moment conspire with the fatalistic speed-maniac at the wheel to precipitate me into a crocodile-infested swamp.
When mercifully I arrived at my destination in an unmutilated condition, I did not know a single soul in the district, and had I not taken the precaution of providing myself with a letter of introduction to one Mirzah, I might have come away at once a sadly disappointed man. This introduction had been scribbled in Arabic Malay upon a half-sheet torn from a motor-accessory dealer’s price list. I could not read it, and for all I knew its contents might have proved embarrassing to me. But I was already taking so many risks that one more didn’t matter. If I knew nothing at all of this Mirzah to whose good offices I was commended, at least his friend, my introducer, was a propertied man and had supplied me with two cans of petrol. But all he had been willing to say of Mirzah was that he acted sometimes as a go-between for merchants if he liked their looks. My prospects of enlisting his cooperation, therefore, were of the slenderest.
When I presented myself at Mirzah’s tin-roofed one-roomed shack he was still at his early morning devotions. After he had perused my introduction, he scrutinized me carefully and then declared with an air of deep gratitude, that I had been sent by Heaven itself. It required little intuition on my part to divine that Mirzah’s cupboard was not overstocked, for hollower cheeks than his I had as yet not encountered in all my journeying across the Malay Peninsular.
There is an Oriental saying which I remembered as I faced my broker-to-be. It says that the All-Merciful never sends one of his winged messengers to earth, but chooses quite an ordinary mortal in pursuit of his own selfish ends, for bringing succour to the needy and comfort to the distressed.
In my eagerness to make the most of the few hours I had allotted to the small township, I asked at once whether Mirzah knew of anyone who stood in urgent need of diamonds. Mirzah replied that it was an ill things to discuss such important business on an empty stomach (he was doubtless referring to his own). I at once agreed to postpone my business until he had broken his fast, for after all, it was only seven, a little more than an hour after sunrise. He offered me the loan of his best rattan rocking chair in which to compose my salesman’s ardor, and went on. I suspected that he had gone to get credit for provender on the strength of his prospects with me, for the news of my arrival in town had already reached the ears of even the most sluggard risers. Meanwhile I took a mental inventory of my host’s possessions.
Upon a large square of grass mat stood a solid hardwood table, surrounded by several high-backed chairs, which have evidence of being home-made. Two rocking chairs had apparently seen several generations come and go. A polished brass vase or two and a cheap color print on a wall, depicting their British Majesties, supplied the decorations. One outsize spittoon represented utility. The room itself was portioned off by a drab cotton curtain reaching halfway to the bare rafters, and hung loosely suspended from a thin, tautly stretched wire rope. Occasionally this curtain bulged and I thought I saw an eye applied to a convenient spy hole. Mirzah’s harem was slaking its curiosity.
Presently Mirzah returned with an armful of provisions. After some delay they were passed back to him through the curtain in the semblance of a substantial breakfast. He ate, I smoked. At length he was willing to talk business. He vouchsafed that there was a wealthy Chinese lady who had long waiting for such as me. She might be game for a good five carat stone, at a reasonable price, but he warned me that she knew what was what. There were also others, he told me, who might be tempted, but first call must be made on the old lady in the fine big house on the top of the hill. I would place myself entirely in his hands, I said, adding that I was ready to go. But he insisted that first he must send his serving-man to make sure that our visit was welcome. The man returned immediately to say we could come as soon as we liked, but Mirzah was not yet ready. He owed it to the English merchant, he said, and to the lady of the fine house on the hill, to make the most of himself. This time he disappeared for a long while behind the curtain, and when he came forth he was transformed.
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods (continued)
Saturday, December 08, 2007
La Scala Opens New Season With Wagner's ‘Tristan’
(via Reuters): Milan's La Scala opened its new opera season with Richard Wagner's five-hour-plus spectacle 'Tristan and Isolde'. www.teatroallascala.org
Useful link:
http://www.reuters.com/article/stageNews/idUSL0661609220071206
Useful link:
http://www.reuters.com/article/stageNews/idUSL0661609220071206
To Cork Or Not To Cork: The Wine Industry's Battle Over The Bottleneck
(via Knowledge at Wharton): George Taber, a veteran business journalist and author, explains in his new book, To Cork or Not to Cork: Tradition, Romance, Science, and the Battle for the Wine Bottle about cork, other forms of closure, including screw caps, plastic seals and glass stoppers + other viewpoints @ http://knowledge.wharton.upenn.edu/article/1857.cfm
Camille
Camille (1936)
Directed by: George Cukor
Screenplay: Alexandre Dumas fils (novel); Zoe Akins, Frances Marion, James Hilton
Cast: Greta Garbo, Robert Taylor, Lionel Barrymore
(via YouTube): Camille - Come What May
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zsCbIpyjsU
A great, grand soap opera. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: George Cukor
Screenplay: Alexandre Dumas fils (novel); Zoe Akins, Frances Marion, James Hilton
Cast: Greta Garbo, Robert Taylor, Lionel Barrymore
(via YouTube): Camille - Come What May
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zsCbIpyjsU
A great, grand soap opera. I enjoyed it.
Who Pays The Fewest Bribes
(via Transparency International): A survey by global anti-corruption body Transparency International has found more than one in ten has paid bribes in various levels to obtain service (s) across the globe in the past twelve months.
Austria - 1%
Canada - 1%
France - 1%
Iceland - 1%
Japan - 1%
South Korea - 1%
Sweden - 1%
Switzerland - 1%
Denmark - 2%
Netherlands - 2%
Useful link:
www.transparency.org
Austria - 1%
Canada - 1%
France - 1%
Iceland - 1%
Japan - 1%
South Korea - 1%
Sweden - 1%
Switzerland - 1%
Denmark - 2%
Netherlands - 2%
Useful link:
www.transparency.org
Choosing DTC Sightholders: A Game Of Power, Principles And Profiles
Chaim Even-Zohar writes about the internal corporate power plays at De Beers surrounding the new Sightholder list + the allocation methodology + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
The Art Of The State
(via The Guardian) Sam Jones writes about a new catalogue of 2,500 scattered oil paintings held by the Government Art Collection + other viewpoints @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/news/story/0,,2223670,00.html
55,000 Signatures And Counting
Milton Esterow writes about John Castagno + four of his compilations of 55,000 signatures and monograms—most of them readable, some of them strange, ambiguous, or illegible--starting with the old masters and continuing through the present + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnews.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=2385¤t=True
The Road To Venice
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
4
Soon after the death in 1470 of Jacopo Bellini, there arrived in Venice a young Sicilian painter who, without being himself a great master, nevertheless changed the whole course of Italian painting. This was Antonio da Messina (1430-79), who, having seen at Naples in his youth a Flemish picture painted in oils, was so fascinated by the advantages of the new medium, that he went to Flanders and stayed there for some six years till he had thoroughly mastered the new process of painting. Then he returned to Italy, where he generously communicated his secrets to other artists, and so popularized in Italy the Flemish method of oil painting. Antonello was a skillful painter, both of figures and landscape, as his ‘Crucifixion’ from the picture in the National Gallery, proves; but unfortunately he died at the age of forty nine, just when he had received commissions for a number of important paintings, and so we can only judge of his talent by the few small pictures and portraits which have survived.
Others reaped where Antonello had sown. Already Venetian painters had shown a certain independence in their art. In this maritime port, where sails were more plentiful than trees, pictures had long been painted on canvas, for wood that warps and plaster that scales and falls were ill suited to resist the damp that came from the canals. Van Eyck’s method of oil painting, introduced by Antonello, was soon found to be more damp-proof than the old method (tempera) of mixing pigments with yolk-of-egg, besides being lighter in weight and richer in color.
Among the first to take advantage of the new method were the two sons of Bellini, who had soon followed their father to Venice, after his separation from Squarcione. Gentile, the elder, named after Gentile da Fabriano (Jacopo’s first master), was born about 1429; his brother Giovanni was a year or two younger. Both these sons far surpassed their father, and the younger outstripped the elder, but throughout their lives there was no jealously between them.
‘Although the brothers live apart,’ says Vasari, ‘they bore such respect for each other and for their father, that each one declared himself to be inferior to the other, thus seeking modestly to surpass the other no less in goodness and courtesy than in the excellence of art.’
We are told that ‘the first works of Giovanni were some portraits which gave great satisfaction, especially that of the Doge Loredano.’ This last is the sumptuous painting, now hanging in the National Gallery; and from this noble portrait of the Head of the Venetian Republic may be obtained a just idea of Giovanni’s power of characterization and of the splendor of his color when he was still at the outset of his great career. Impressed by the beauty of his portraits and of numerous altar-pieces which he painted for churches in Venetian territory, the nobles of the city desired this great painter, together with his brother Gentile, ‘to decorate the hall of the great council with paintings descriptive of the magnificence and greatness of their marvelous city.’ So, beginning with the brothers Bellini, and afterwards continued by painters of equal eminence, there came into being that unrivalled series of mural paintings in public buildings which makes Venice today the most wonderful art city in the world.
Of all the altar-pieces painted by Giovanni Bellini, the most exquisite is the illustration ‘The Doge Barberigo Kneeling before the Infant Christ’, a painting formerly in the Church of San Pietro at Murano, but now in the Accademia, Venice. This Madonna is one of the loveliest in all Italian art, serene, majestic, pensive, but altogether human and lovable.
Softness and gentleness always distinguish the work of Giovanni Bellini from that of his brother Gentile, who inclined more to the severity of his brother-in-law Mantegna. Good examples of Gentile Bellini may be seen in the National Gallery, among them being an ‘Adoration of the Magi’ and his portraits of ‘The Sultan Mohammed II’. The last has an interesting history. Although paintings are prohibited by Mohammedan laws, this Sultan saw some portraits by Giovanni Bellini in the possession of the Venetian Ambassador, and, filled with amazement and admiration, he earnestly desired to see the man who could create such marvels. The Venetian Senate, however, was disinclined to let Giovanni leave the city, but allowed his brother Gentile to go in his stead. Gentile arrived at Constantinople, where he ‘was received graciously and highly favored,’ and after painting a number of portraits, including one of the Sultan and one (by request) of himself, the Grand Turk was ‘convinced that the artist had been assisted by some divine spirit.’ He wished to reward the artist richly, and ‘asked him to name any favor which he desired, and it would immediately be granted.’
Tactful and courteous, yet conscious that if he unduly prolonged his stay in Turkey he might excite envy and dangerous religious animosity, Gentile replied that he ‘asked for nothing but a letter of recommendation to the senate and government of his native Venice.’ Though loath to let him go, the Sultan was as good as his word. The letter was written ‘in the warmest possible terms, after which he was dismissed with noble gifts and the honor of knighthood.’
So Gentile Bellini returned in honor to Venice, where he lived till he was nearly eighty, when ‘he passed to the other life,’ says Vasari, ‘and was honorably buried by his brother in Santi Giovanni e Paolo in the year 1507.’ His brother Giovanni survived him by some ten years and continued, find old patriarch that he was, painting portraits till almost the end of his days. ‘At length,’ says our historian, he passed from the troubles of this life, leaving an everlasting name for the works which he produced in his native Venice and elsewhere. He was buried in the same church where he had previously laid his brother Gentile.’
The Road To Venice (continued)
4
Soon after the death in 1470 of Jacopo Bellini, there arrived in Venice a young Sicilian painter who, without being himself a great master, nevertheless changed the whole course of Italian painting. This was Antonio da Messina (1430-79), who, having seen at Naples in his youth a Flemish picture painted in oils, was so fascinated by the advantages of the new medium, that he went to Flanders and stayed there for some six years till he had thoroughly mastered the new process of painting. Then he returned to Italy, where he generously communicated his secrets to other artists, and so popularized in Italy the Flemish method of oil painting. Antonello was a skillful painter, both of figures and landscape, as his ‘Crucifixion’ from the picture in the National Gallery, proves; but unfortunately he died at the age of forty nine, just when he had received commissions for a number of important paintings, and so we can only judge of his talent by the few small pictures and portraits which have survived.
Others reaped where Antonello had sown. Already Venetian painters had shown a certain independence in their art. In this maritime port, where sails were more plentiful than trees, pictures had long been painted on canvas, for wood that warps and plaster that scales and falls were ill suited to resist the damp that came from the canals. Van Eyck’s method of oil painting, introduced by Antonello, was soon found to be more damp-proof than the old method (tempera) of mixing pigments with yolk-of-egg, besides being lighter in weight and richer in color.
Among the first to take advantage of the new method were the two sons of Bellini, who had soon followed their father to Venice, after his separation from Squarcione. Gentile, the elder, named after Gentile da Fabriano (Jacopo’s first master), was born about 1429; his brother Giovanni was a year or two younger. Both these sons far surpassed their father, and the younger outstripped the elder, but throughout their lives there was no jealously between them.
‘Although the brothers live apart,’ says Vasari, ‘they bore such respect for each other and for their father, that each one declared himself to be inferior to the other, thus seeking modestly to surpass the other no less in goodness and courtesy than in the excellence of art.’
We are told that ‘the first works of Giovanni were some portraits which gave great satisfaction, especially that of the Doge Loredano.’ This last is the sumptuous painting, now hanging in the National Gallery; and from this noble portrait of the Head of the Venetian Republic may be obtained a just idea of Giovanni’s power of characterization and of the splendor of his color when he was still at the outset of his great career. Impressed by the beauty of his portraits and of numerous altar-pieces which he painted for churches in Venetian territory, the nobles of the city desired this great painter, together with his brother Gentile, ‘to decorate the hall of the great council with paintings descriptive of the magnificence and greatness of their marvelous city.’ So, beginning with the brothers Bellini, and afterwards continued by painters of equal eminence, there came into being that unrivalled series of mural paintings in public buildings which makes Venice today the most wonderful art city in the world.
Of all the altar-pieces painted by Giovanni Bellini, the most exquisite is the illustration ‘The Doge Barberigo Kneeling before the Infant Christ’, a painting formerly in the Church of San Pietro at Murano, but now in the Accademia, Venice. This Madonna is one of the loveliest in all Italian art, serene, majestic, pensive, but altogether human and lovable.
Softness and gentleness always distinguish the work of Giovanni Bellini from that of his brother Gentile, who inclined more to the severity of his brother-in-law Mantegna. Good examples of Gentile Bellini may be seen in the National Gallery, among them being an ‘Adoration of the Magi’ and his portraits of ‘The Sultan Mohammed II’. The last has an interesting history. Although paintings are prohibited by Mohammedan laws, this Sultan saw some portraits by Giovanni Bellini in the possession of the Venetian Ambassador, and, filled with amazement and admiration, he earnestly desired to see the man who could create such marvels. The Venetian Senate, however, was disinclined to let Giovanni leave the city, but allowed his brother Gentile to go in his stead. Gentile arrived at Constantinople, where he ‘was received graciously and highly favored,’ and after painting a number of portraits, including one of the Sultan and one (by request) of himself, the Grand Turk was ‘convinced that the artist had been assisted by some divine spirit.’ He wished to reward the artist richly, and ‘asked him to name any favor which he desired, and it would immediately be granted.’
Tactful and courteous, yet conscious that if he unduly prolonged his stay in Turkey he might excite envy and dangerous religious animosity, Gentile replied that he ‘asked for nothing but a letter of recommendation to the senate and government of his native Venice.’ Though loath to let him go, the Sultan was as good as his word. The letter was written ‘in the warmest possible terms, after which he was dismissed with noble gifts and the honor of knighthood.’
So Gentile Bellini returned in honor to Venice, where he lived till he was nearly eighty, when ‘he passed to the other life,’ says Vasari, ‘and was honorably buried by his brother in Santi Giovanni e Paolo in the year 1507.’ His brother Giovanni survived him by some ten years and continued, find old patriarch that he was, painting portraits till almost the end of his days. ‘At length,’ says our historian, he passed from the troubles of this life, leaving an everlasting name for the works which he produced in his native Venice and elsewhere. He was buried in the same church where he had previously laid his brother Gentile.’
The Road To Venice (continued)
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I told you that I ‘broke’ three times into diamond trading. The third occasion was when I was introduced to a prominent Antwerp diamond cutter in New York. For some reason he took to me, perhaps because I visited him in a nursing home when he was bored and ill. At any rate, he pressed me to come and see him when I reached Europe, and four weeks later I sat in the great man’s office in the Rue Coquilhat in Antwerp. He was a prince among men, although he could scarcely write his own name, and the outcome of our chance acquaintance was that I was associated with him over a period of six years, during which time my firm distributed throughout China, Indo-China, Japan, the Philippines and Malaya the stones which were cut in my principal’s Antwerp establishment. The strangest thing about it all was that he knew nothing about me; almost equally strange was the fact that although he had the largest diamond factory in Belgium I had never previously heard his name.
‘So you are specializing in pearls,’ he said, ‘and are operating in China at present. Why don’t you go in for diamonds on a large scale?’
‘For the best reason in the world,’ I said, laughing. ‘It takes me all my time to finance my pearl business.’
‘Oh, money be damned,’ he returned. ‘You can buy from me all you want without cash. Your paper is good enough for me.’
‘But paper has to be met,’ said I. ‘And I can’t see myself getting a single night’s sound sleep if I were to buy beyond my strength.’
‘That puts a different complexion on the matter,’ he smiled. ‘But although if you want to sleep, then sleep you must; I had thought you of the calibre of a big merchant who is out for big things and to whom sleep is a secondary matter. How much sleep do you think did Napoleon get in all his life?’ That was no talk for serious merchants. It was foolishness got up as the essence of wisdom. However, while he was still speaking he told his head clerk to bring out the classified series of brilliants which had been finished that morning.
‘These are the class of goods that sell in China,’ he said. ‘You may not know it, but I am well informed on the point. The series comes to approximately £40000. You can make your fifteen percent on it as easily as you can kiss your hand. Will you buy it if I guarantee you a profit?’
A friend who had introduced us in New York sat by my side and I looked at him.
‘Henry,’ I said, ‘I haven’t touched a brilliant for years, I am not au fait with values, I am a steady goer, I take no wild plunges, and my paper if I give it has to be met. Tell our friend here to look for other customers.’
Henry, who was a great expert on brilliants and had for twenty five years never lost touch with the diamond market, and who loved me as a brother, said: ‘Buy!’
I bought the lot; it came to over forty thousand pounds, and I paid with my signature. I did not know then what I had let myself in for. But of that more anon. I shipped the goods out to my brother, who was then in charge of our Manila office.
Suddenly I remembered, even as the goods were on their way, that you might buy diamonds for £40000 on tick if the seller had faith in your integrity, but that the American Collector of Customs in Manila would want to see the color our money before issuing a clearance certificate for the goods. Fifteen percent ad valorem meant £6000 in Customs duty, and this was an outlay which I had not figured on before I had left the Islands. In great perturbation I mentioned this little fact to the seller. He laughed.
‘I gave you credit for forty thousand pounds, so I may as well make forty six thousand,’ he said, grabbed the phone and instructed his bank to make cable transfer to Manila of £6000 in our favor.
That shows you what sort of a Napoleon my credit was. Two weeks later, having been in the interim in London, I went again to Antwerp. I called on my friend. He shook me warmly by the hand and said, without further parley: ‘Your luck’s out. The bottom has fallen out of the diamond market since you bought that parcel from me. You can buy the identical goods today at twenty five percent below the prices you paid me. Can you stand a loss like that without making a fuss about it?’
‘It’s bad news,’ I said calmly, for a man who has been knocked out by a hundred pound weight is quite calm in a manner of speaking, ‘but I have four months in front of me and the East is a big place. In any case, I now have a good reason for not sleeping at night.’
‘Do you know what I would do in your place?’ he asked.
‘Are you going to give me some good advice,’ I said with a wry smile, ‘or do you propose buying the goods back from me at a discount?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m merely asking what you think I would do.’
I pondered. ‘If one were sure, could be sure, that there would be no further drop in price, the obvious thing to do would be to buy another one hundred thousand pounds’ worth of brilliants at today’s prices and strike an average, always provided that one had the cash or the credit and a market to absorb the goods.’
‘Precisely,’ he said, ‘and that was what I was going to suggest to you. I have another series of goods similar to those you bought of me. It does not come to a hundred thousand pounds, but close enough to sixty thousand. I advise you to buy; there will be no further drop; if anything, there will be an upward tendency almost before you can ship the stuff out.’
I inspected the goods. My heart was in my mouth. What was I about? Had I any right to commit myself to such heavy payments? If I bought the parcel I was staking all upon one throw of the dice; if I did not buy it my loss on the first purchase would limit my resources severely for some time to come. As I fumbled with the corn-tongs, idly picking up first one then another flashing stone, not knowing what decision to take for the best, a voice said in my ear: ‘Leap!’
I turned to my creditor. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘you can invoice the lot to me, but easy with the whip when you fix the dates of payment.’
The same day I received a cable from my brother in Manila: ‘Market here gone to pieces; buy nothing, ship nothing.’
‘A fine kettle of fish,’ I commented to myself, but ate a hearty dinner—like the condemned man—and went to a show. What was done was done. Within a week I sailed from Marseilles, China-bound, carrying with me in the purser’s safe the second folly which was to wash out the first.
I was lucky, very lucky. Within ten weeks from the date of my arrival in China I had liquidated for spot cash all my purchases, and had entered into an arrangement with my Antwerp supplier whereby we operated jointly in the Far Eastern markets on a fifty-fifty basis—he to buy the rough and cut it, I to have sole distribution. For six years the association held between us, until civil war in China, an anti-luxury campaign in Japan with its incident legislation, and a tin and rubber slump in Malaya were decisive factors in determining me to beat a retreat before the crisis, which had already taken toll in many good names in the diamond trade at home should claim mine, too.
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I told you that I ‘broke’ three times into diamond trading. The third occasion was when I was introduced to a prominent Antwerp diamond cutter in New York. For some reason he took to me, perhaps because I visited him in a nursing home when he was bored and ill. At any rate, he pressed me to come and see him when I reached Europe, and four weeks later I sat in the great man’s office in the Rue Coquilhat in Antwerp. He was a prince among men, although he could scarcely write his own name, and the outcome of our chance acquaintance was that I was associated with him over a period of six years, during which time my firm distributed throughout China, Indo-China, Japan, the Philippines and Malaya the stones which were cut in my principal’s Antwerp establishment. The strangest thing about it all was that he knew nothing about me; almost equally strange was the fact that although he had the largest diamond factory in Belgium I had never previously heard his name.
‘So you are specializing in pearls,’ he said, ‘and are operating in China at present. Why don’t you go in for diamonds on a large scale?’
‘For the best reason in the world,’ I said, laughing. ‘It takes me all my time to finance my pearl business.’
‘Oh, money be damned,’ he returned. ‘You can buy from me all you want without cash. Your paper is good enough for me.’
‘But paper has to be met,’ said I. ‘And I can’t see myself getting a single night’s sound sleep if I were to buy beyond my strength.’
‘That puts a different complexion on the matter,’ he smiled. ‘But although if you want to sleep, then sleep you must; I had thought you of the calibre of a big merchant who is out for big things and to whom sleep is a secondary matter. How much sleep do you think did Napoleon get in all his life?’ That was no talk for serious merchants. It was foolishness got up as the essence of wisdom. However, while he was still speaking he told his head clerk to bring out the classified series of brilliants which had been finished that morning.
‘These are the class of goods that sell in China,’ he said. ‘You may not know it, but I am well informed on the point. The series comes to approximately £40000. You can make your fifteen percent on it as easily as you can kiss your hand. Will you buy it if I guarantee you a profit?’
A friend who had introduced us in New York sat by my side and I looked at him.
‘Henry,’ I said, ‘I haven’t touched a brilliant for years, I am not au fait with values, I am a steady goer, I take no wild plunges, and my paper if I give it has to be met. Tell our friend here to look for other customers.’
Henry, who was a great expert on brilliants and had for twenty five years never lost touch with the diamond market, and who loved me as a brother, said: ‘Buy!’
I bought the lot; it came to over forty thousand pounds, and I paid with my signature. I did not know then what I had let myself in for. But of that more anon. I shipped the goods out to my brother, who was then in charge of our Manila office.
Suddenly I remembered, even as the goods were on their way, that you might buy diamonds for £40000 on tick if the seller had faith in your integrity, but that the American Collector of Customs in Manila would want to see the color our money before issuing a clearance certificate for the goods. Fifteen percent ad valorem meant £6000 in Customs duty, and this was an outlay which I had not figured on before I had left the Islands. In great perturbation I mentioned this little fact to the seller. He laughed.
‘I gave you credit for forty thousand pounds, so I may as well make forty six thousand,’ he said, grabbed the phone and instructed his bank to make cable transfer to Manila of £6000 in our favor.
That shows you what sort of a Napoleon my credit was. Two weeks later, having been in the interim in London, I went again to Antwerp. I called on my friend. He shook me warmly by the hand and said, without further parley: ‘Your luck’s out. The bottom has fallen out of the diamond market since you bought that parcel from me. You can buy the identical goods today at twenty five percent below the prices you paid me. Can you stand a loss like that without making a fuss about it?’
‘It’s bad news,’ I said calmly, for a man who has been knocked out by a hundred pound weight is quite calm in a manner of speaking, ‘but I have four months in front of me and the East is a big place. In any case, I now have a good reason for not sleeping at night.’
‘Do you know what I would do in your place?’ he asked.
‘Are you going to give me some good advice,’ I said with a wry smile, ‘or do you propose buying the goods back from me at a discount?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m merely asking what you think I would do.’
I pondered. ‘If one were sure, could be sure, that there would be no further drop in price, the obvious thing to do would be to buy another one hundred thousand pounds’ worth of brilliants at today’s prices and strike an average, always provided that one had the cash or the credit and a market to absorb the goods.’
‘Precisely,’ he said, ‘and that was what I was going to suggest to you. I have another series of goods similar to those you bought of me. It does not come to a hundred thousand pounds, but close enough to sixty thousand. I advise you to buy; there will be no further drop; if anything, there will be an upward tendency almost before you can ship the stuff out.’
I inspected the goods. My heart was in my mouth. What was I about? Had I any right to commit myself to such heavy payments? If I bought the parcel I was staking all upon one throw of the dice; if I did not buy it my loss on the first purchase would limit my resources severely for some time to come. As I fumbled with the corn-tongs, idly picking up first one then another flashing stone, not knowing what decision to take for the best, a voice said in my ear: ‘Leap!’
I turned to my creditor. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘you can invoice the lot to me, but easy with the whip when you fix the dates of payment.’
The same day I received a cable from my brother in Manila: ‘Market here gone to pieces; buy nothing, ship nothing.’
‘A fine kettle of fish,’ I commented to myself, but ate a hearty dinner—like the condemned man—and went to a show. What was done was done. Within a week I sailed from Marseilles, China-bound, carrying with me in the purser’s safe the second folly which was to wash out the first.
I was lucky, very lucky. Within ten weeks from the date of my arrival in China I had liquidated for spot cash all my purchases, and had entered into an arrangement with my Antwerp supplier whereby we operated jointly in the Far Eastern markets on a fifty-fifty basis—he to buy the rough and cut it, I to have sole distribution. For six years the association held between us, until civil war in China, an anti-luxury campaign in Japan with its incident legislation, and a tin and rubber slump in Malaya were decisive factors in determining me to beat a retreat before the crisis, which had already taken toll in many good names in the diamond trade at home should claim mine, too.
I Sell Diamonds: Contrast In Methods (continued)
Friday, December 07, 2007
Movies With A Trading Theme
My favorite movies with a trading theme:
- Pi: www.pithemovie.com
- Trading Places: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0086465
- Wall Street: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094291
- Sting: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070735
- Pi: www.pithemovie.com
- Trading Places: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0086465
- Wall Street: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094291
- Sting: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070735
Who Pays The Most Bribes
(via Transparency International): According to a survey by Transparency International, more than one in ten has paid bribes in various levels to obtain service (s) across the globe in the past twelve months.
- Cameroon - 79%
- Cambodia - 72%
- Albania - 71%
- Kosovo - 67%
- FYR Macedonia - 44%
- Pakistan - 44%
- Nigeria - 40%
- Senegal - 38%
- Romania - 33%
- Philippines - 32%
Useful link:
www.transparency.org
- Cameroon - 79%
- Cambodia - 72%
- Albania - 71%
- Kosovo - 67%
- FYR Macedonia - 44%
- Pakistan - 44%
- Nigeria - 40%
- Senegal - 38%
- Romania - 33%
- Philippines - 32%
Useful link:
www.transparency.org
Salad Oil Scandal
I think the story of Salad Oil Scandal should be told and retold until the end of time. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salad_oil_scandal
Rule No.1
Never Lose Money
Rule No.2
Never Forget Rule No.1
A lesson for all.
Rule No.1
Never Lose Money
Rule No.2
Never Forget Rule No.1
A lesson for all.
Gems And Jewelry: India's 'Golden' Growth Story
(via Commodity Online): Some interesting facts on the gems and jewelry sector in India @ http://www.resourceinvestor.com/pebble.asp?relid=38520
Useful link:
www.commodityonline.com
Useful link:
www.commodityonline.com
Chinatown
Chinatown (1974)
Directed by: Roman Polanski
Screenplay: Robert Towne
Cast: Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway, John Huston
(via YouTube): Roman Polanski
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q34OSPw17o4
Chinatown DVD Extra: Retrospective Interviews (part 1 of 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDt7lXdE58A
Chinatown DVD Extra: Retrospective Interviews (part 2 of 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbD8NsBBLo8
A great film + I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Roman Polanski
Screenplay: Robert Towne
Cast: Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway, John Huston
(via YouTube): Roman Polanski
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q34OSPw17o4
Chinatown DVD Extra: Retrospective Interviews (part 1 of 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDt7lXdE58A
Chinatown DVD Extra: Retrospective Interviews (part 2 of 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbD8NsBBLo8
A great film + I enjoyed it.
Lost For Art
Economist writes about Iraqi artists’ works at Qibab Art Gallery + the tiny art scene in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/diary/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10235761
Trypillian Threat
Olena Rusina writes about the state of the archeological treasures in Ukraine + the illegal excavations + black archeologists and their methodology + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnews.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=2389¤t=True
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