Scan barcode
chris_davies's review
4.0
Julian Barnes is one of my favourite writers - I don't think he's capable of writing a boring sentence - and this collection doesn't disappoint. Never mind that I'd never heard of most of the artists featured in this collection - Barnes brings them and their work to life with great skill and panache.
The essays here are a mixture of book reviews, newspaper articles and pieces written for 'Modern Painters'. Throughout, Barnes seeks to draw parallels between the artists' life and their works. These threads are usually well balanced, although towards the end (where perhaps his interest in the art is less), the balance begins to tip towards biography.
I particularly enjoyed the essays on Bonnard, Redon, Vuillard, and Vallotton, none of whom I was previously familiar with. Poor old Claes Oldenburg get a bit of a (good natured) kicking - I couldn't help wondering if he might have got a smoother ride if he'd been named Claude Oldenbourg... (sorry, Julian!) But really, there is something to enjoy in each essay.
My one - fairly major - gripe is with the illustrations. To really appreciate these essays, you need to see the art being discussed. Many of the works are missing from the book, whilst others of only tangential relevance are included. I guess there may be copyright issues, but you will need continual access to Google images to really enjoy this book. It's worth the hassle though, to get the full benefit of Barnes' insight.
The essays here are a mixture of book reviews, newspaper articles and pieces written for 'Modern Painters'. Throughout, Barnes seeks to draw parallels between the artists' life and their works. These threads are usually well balanced, although towards the end (where perhaps his interest in the art is less), the balance begins to tip towards biography.
I particularly enjoyed the essays on Bonnard, Redon, Vuillard, and Vallotton, none of whom I was previously familiar with. Poor old Claes Oldenburg get a bit of a (good natured) kicking - I couldn't help wondering if he might have got a smoother ride if he'd been named Claude Oldenbourg... (sorry, Julian!) But really, there is something to enjoy in each essay.
My one - fairly major - gripe is with the illustrations. To really appreciate these essays, you need to see the art being discussed. Many of the works are missing from the book, whilst others of only tangential relevance are included. I guess there may be copyright issues, but you will need continual access to Google images to really enjoy this book. It's worth the hassle though, to get the full benefit of Barnes' insight.
lazygal's review
5.0
I've said it before, but I'd read the phone book if Julian Barnes wrote it. So there's that. This isn't a book by an art historian, nor is it a book by an artist, however it is a book by someone who appreciates art. As a collection of essays, the theme seems to be about works of art that are, in a very loose sense, connected, and ones where the subject matter of the painting or the artist's life is somehow compelling. Barnes isn't saying "Hey, this is an important work because..." here, he's saying "These works compel me for these reasons, perhaps you, too, will feel the same." It's a very human, personal and yet intellectual look at these works. Some may not appreciate the style or the opinions; I enjoyed the former, and occasionally the latter.
larkais's review
informative
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
3.75
Compared to the essays on short stories by George Saunders, I think these essays on art were enjoyable so I gave them the same rating. I might peg one of them down to 3.5 but I will think on which one was more impactful later. When I heard they were essays on art, I really thought they would look more at specific pieces rather than a general biography of each artists (and only lightly related it to the wider context of what art they created).
I found myself really feeling bored with the first few essays and but then it made sense why, Julian Barnes just developed to be a better writer over the years since some works included in this book were published in other formats first. The strongest chapters were the ones about Degas all the way to Braque. The essays that border these were a lacking for me due to the emphasis on biography rather than interpretation. The chapter So does it become art was a bit startling though, the images that displayed first a realistic wax body, then the wasting wax body were out of the blue. Which is to say, the artist did a good job and I hope to never see it again.
You will definitely need to search these paintings up since the book only includes little snippets of the paintings.
Other spoiler thoughts
I don't know how people can say Degas hated women when literally we sat through five other artists that valued women less. Don't get married if you still wish to be an artist. If you are afraid of loneliness, then don't marry. Fantin seemed to value his fiance's sister more in his portrait of the in laws and painted the in-laws as if they were "funeral still-life". If that doesn't fall into the hole of I hate my wife/marriage, then I don't know what does.
Anyways, I really liked the Degas chapter as it talked more about reception to the art, what strife it took to compose the painting (4 hour modelling sessions of models just brushing hair) and how much more human he painted the women instead of as beings with impossible proportions.
There were some wonderful lines in Bonnard's chapter
Bonnard is the painter of the Great Indoors, even when he's painting the Great Outdoors. Landscape is frequently viewed from the safety of the house, through a window, from the perch of a balcony. But even when directly confronted, it remains changed and static like the interior. Those dappled woods are like wallpaper -- though, since this is Bonnard wallpaper, it is wallpaper almost as alive as nature.
I found myself really feeling bored with the first few essays and but then it made sense why, Julian Barnes just developed to be a better writer over the years since some works included in this book were published in other formats first. The strongest chapters were the ones about Degas all the way to Braque. The essays that border these were a lacking for me due to the emphasis on biography rather than interpretation. The chapter So does it become art was a bit startling though, the images that displayed first a realistic wax body, then the wasting wax body were out of the blue. Which is to say, the artist did a good job and I hope to never see it again.
You will definitely need to search these paintings up since the book only includes little snippets of the paintings.
Other spoiler thoughts
Anyways, I really liked the Degas chapter as it talked more about reception to the art, what strife it took to compose the painting (4 hour modelling sessions of models just brushing hair) and how much more human he painted the women instead of as beings with impossible proportions.
Bonnard is the painter of the Great Indoors, even when he's painting the Great Outdoors. Landscape is frequently viewed from the safety of the house, through a window, from the perch of a balcony. But even when directly confronted, it remains changed and static like the interior. Those dappled woods are like wallpaper -- though, since this is Bonnard wallpaper, it is wallpaper almost as alive as nature.
Bonnard didn't scuttle back and forth checking colour variations in the sky: he painted from formidable memory.
On the day of [Bonnard's] funeral, snow fell on pinkish brightness of almond, as it did on the yellow brightness of the mimosas. Quite obviously, Nature was bidding farewell not to a grovelling servant but to a passionate love. What, out of interest, did Nature do for Picasso when he died?
The set up and payoff of the essay was the strongest.
fluentinsilence's review against another edition
4.0
http://winterlief.blogspot.nl/2015/05/in-ogenschouw-essays-over-kunst.html
nerzola's review against another edition
4.0
L'arte non si limita a catturare e trasmettere la tensione emotiva, il fremito della vita. Talvolta fa qualcosa di più: è essa stessa quel fremito.