I've always been down with style over substance. When my weird Scottish high school art teacher Mr McLean (who let us listen to The Buzzcock's 'Orgasm Addict' in class) introduced me to Art Nouveau I fell in love with its exaggerated ornamental feminine forms. Paris Metro? Yes please. Beardsley and Mucha's gorgeous statuesque women? Too, too cool.
So I was initially unimpressed with the whole 'functional design' ethos of the Bauhaus movement that followed. It all sounded rather structured, overly strict, masculine and well...darkly, frighteningly German. Dumbo soon saw the error of my ways when I came to appreciate the huge impact Walter Gropius's vision had achieved during the short Weimar period. You know you're onto something once you get closed on account of your degenerative influence.
The Modernist Bauhaus influence on architecture, interiors, furniture and graphics made the centuries of ornamental craftsmanship preceding it seem hopelessly outdated. Clean, minimalist design harmonised an object's aesthetic with its function. Mass production linked the design of household products with the increasing industrialisation of the age. A new post-war era had arrived and didn't it look agonisingly hip.
I did the triple-threat Bauhaus pilgrammage to Berlin, Weimar and Dessau on my travels, visiting many of the original still-functioning buildings. It was a real privilege to see the remnants of a socially democratic vision of a well-designed environment made real. Next stop Israel for the post-WW2 chapter.
Images courtesy of Google
What a funny description of Bauhaus, which, though I enjoyed it's brief stint in my educational upbringing, I far preferred the Nature loving, nudist proto-hippies, The German Expressionists. Nextdoor neighbours to the Bauhaus Family, one assumes...
ReplyDeleteDay and Age 18/08/09
Nowadays, she kisses
Me at dawn, like a
Brass player commencing.
The day starts like a tangelo
Dream, the Dexter ritual,
Fashion is dictated by
Cattledogs.
The gentiles only start
Banal propaganda after
Ten. Insular topics like
Gender politics, racism,
Conceptualism or
God forbid turgid
History is made famous
Only on the big screen,
Darling.
Art now is
Ancient as Julius Cesar,
Except She finds
Dates on the internet
While he trawls
Twentieth century
Dives. Mumbling
Semiotics and gestalt
Psychology, so
The prolix of the
Past decade rambles on…
The signs are vital:
But her hands are cold.
Brandon Flowers
Kisses the girls from his
Album
As the noonday sun
Eclipses thought,
Which is a sin
Worse than innuendo.
And in the afternoon
Salvador fishes for tuna,
Whilst Obama orders
Hamburgers with Dijon
Onboard airforce one
As Christianity takes
A stage dive.
I do not think Lady
Gaga is a solipsist
Or will grace us with
Her anorexic beehive,
She is putting Mr
Zimmerman to bed.
Bowie sips his bergamot,
Sitting on a throne made
Of lamp black amplifiers,
Surveys his cerulean
Blue architect plans for
Another hedonist shopping centre,
Whilst Brian Eno applies his
Tazer to the neon night.
After taking my fill
Of sciptless television,
I strip tease for chiaroscuro.
But she has a headache
And wants to sleep in
Peter Gabriel’s bed.
So I sleep, perchance to
Dream of the
Weimar Republic.
By Patrick Hromas, www.absolutearts.com/portfolios/h/hromas