This week: the history of walking, the art of fine dining, medieval timekeeping, Soviet satirists, dogs chasing cars & more.
The Art of Walking: A History in 100 Images, by William Chapman Sharpe (Yale University Press): Congreve may have “nauseate[d] walking; ’tis a country diversion, I loathe the country,” but perambulation has been a subject for visual artists since time immemorial. In The Art of Walking, William Chapman Sharpe tackles the question “What does a walk look like?” with one hundred illustrations, from early Egyptian wall paintings to famous images such as Turner’s depiction of rubble tourists visiting Tintern Abbey to Christo & Jean Claude’s Floating Piers in Italy’s Lago d’Iseo, which was up from 2014 to 2016. Some chapters appeal more than others, but such a broad-ranging book has something for every rambler. —BR
Alle Thyng Hath Tyme: Time and Medieval Life, by Gillian Adler & Paul Strohm (Reaktion Books): In the Middle Ages, numerous temporal systems clashed and collided with one another in a way that can be confusing to the present-day reader. The great writings of the period, such as Dante’s Divine Comedy, Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, and Boccacio’s Decameron, may prove difficult to follow without a proper understanding of the ways in which their authors processed time. In the newest addition to Reaktion’s “Medieval Lives” series, Alle Thyng Hath Tyme: Time and Medieval Life, the literature scholars Gillian Adler and Paul Strohm investigate medieval time, from the linear and the cyclical, to the religious and the mercantile, to the natural and the mechanical, and reveal how such systems dictated the lives, stories, and theories of the era. Concise and replete with captivating illustrations, Alle Thyng Hath Tyme is a valuable introduction for budding medievalists to the concept of time in the medium aevum. —JW
“Komar and Melamid, a Lesson in History” at Zimmerli Art Museum, New Jersey (through July 16): Saturday morning, as a column of rebel mercenaries seemed hell-bent on capturing Moscow, I made my way to the campus of Rutgers to visit the Zimmerli Art Museum’s exhibition “Komar & Melamid: A Lesson in History.” Against the burlesque backdrop of Russian politics, it was a fitting day to view this puckish duo’s artwork—paintings, mixed-media installations, and conceptual presentations ranging from the early 1970s to the early 2000s that satirize the pomp and circumstance of Socialist Realism. The pair of classically trained painters cleverly flipped Soviet propaganda on its head—see their canvas Double Self-Portrait (1973), which depicts the two artists in profile à la Marx and Lenin, and their photo series The Essence of Truth (1975) in which the duo diligently attempts to grind and squeeze the eponymous substance from Pravda (“Truth”) magazine—to disappointing results (a tired, gray lump). Then see Komar & Melamid’s work produced after their move to America in 1978, including a series of neoclassical canvases of Joseph Stalin that does not disappoint. Keep an eye out for my full forthcoming review in Dispatch of this sprawling, comprehensive retrospective that is well worth the time of anyone with at least a cursory interest in the bravado and irony of Soviet political theater. —IS
“Staging the Table in Europe, 1500–1800” at Bard Graduate Center, New York (through July 9): “Nec minimo sane discrimine refert, / quo gestu lepores et quo gallina secetur.” There’s a difference between how you carve a chicken and a hare. Juvenal’s advice serves as the epigraph for “Staging the Table in Europe, 1500–1800,” an exhibition on view at New York’s Bard Graduate Center Gallery through July 9. At the center of this tempting show are dining manuals such as Vincenzo Cervio’s Il Trinciante (Rome, 1581 and after), Mattia Giegher’s Li Tre Trattati (Padua, 1629 and after), and Georg Philip Härsdoffer’s Vollständiges Trinicir-Büchlein (Nuremberg, 1640, and after). Curated by Deborah L. Krohn, and accompanied by a savory catalogue, the exhibition brings these together with prints, plates, knives, and napkins from three hundred years at table. —JP
Isolated Houses and Dogs Chasing My Car in the Desert at Yancey Richardson Gallery, New York (through July 7): About the desert, Cormac McCarthy wrote: “Those who travel desert places do indeed meet with creatures surpassing all description.” The photographer John Divola captures many such places in his two-part series Isolated Houses and Dogs Chasing My Car in the Desert, both of which are on display at New York’s Yancey Richardson Gallery through July 7. Anyone who has road-tripped through the middle-of-nowhere American West will recall the sight of strange homes and huts far in the distance—Divola hunts down these elusive subjects in Isolated Houses. While driving to these lonely locations, Divola often found himself chased by dogs; these dogs and their Tantalean pursuit of Divola’s car form the subject of the second half of the show. Taken in tandem, these two series present a thoughtful reflection on the American West and American isolation. —LL
By the Editors:
“Taking in Good Night, Oscar and New York, New York,”
Robert S. Erickson, The Spectator World.
Podcasts:
“Music for a While #77: ‘Tis of thee,” feature Jay Nordlinger. Jay Nordlinger, The New Criterion’s music critic, talks music—but, more important, plays music.
From the Archives:
“The great ghastly,” by David Mermelstein (February 2000). On The Great Gatsby at the Metropolitan Opera.
Dispatch:
“Tone poems,” by Christian Kile. On “Gwen John: Art and Life in London and Paris” at Pallant House Gallery, Chichester, United Kingdom.