Masterpieces of the Swiss Rupf Collection - Picasso, Klee, Kandinsky
0 comments Posted by hub culture at 21:08
Exhibition Over
Until 27th January, 2008
Museum of Fine Arts, Hősök tere [map]
Pest, XIV, Hősök tere (M1), 1 min
If you haven't noticed that The Museum of Fine Arts is playing host to a Picasso, Klee and Kandinsky exhibition, you probably don't use the metro too much. Being listed first, the Picasso brand-name clearly has the most pulling power, although that's Klee's "Legend of the Nile" on the poster. What kind of split will the exhibition have, I wonder?
2200HUF seems quite pricey to me but 10% off with a little card from the tourist office is briefly enough to take the sting out of it. I then ponder the wisdom of buying a ticket at all when I find that there's no one on the door.
Inside the gallery, it's quickly clear that this particular sample of Hermann Rupf's collection isn't going to be a case of a couple of paintings and a few sketches. The exhibition is more-or-less chronological, split into two around 1930. This exposes what a tight-knit bunch the early cubists were: string instrument, newspaper, wine bottle, grapes... were Picasso, Braque and Gris all trapped in the same room? Perhaps things will change in the next gallery...hang on, what's this? "Guitar, Bottle and Fruit Dish" (1921).
Some quirky sculptures by Laurens liven it up a bit and Derain's landscapes are an oasis in a sea of still lifes. Picasso does finally come through with the squawking, light-hearted "Young Girl" (1929), which amuses me greatly.
The second half, for me, was far more exciting, thanks in no small part to Klee, who's a lot more varied than I gave him credit for. I'm not sure whether my memory beat my eyes to the notion that Klee has a certain penchant for swastikas - but it seemed that as soon as I thought it, I noticed them. This led to a little (more) confusion as to how to interpret the paintings. In fact, he'd been using them well in advance of Hitler, so it appears that continuing the trend throughout the thirties was an act of defiance, from the seemingly safe distance of Paris.
Kandinsky is also well-represented, with a series of colourful balancing acts and miniature universes from the 20s through to the 40s. It's the Kandinsky I know and love and seeing them in the flesh, makes me realise how few colours there are in the digital world. I'm also happy to see that Kandinsky did occasionally depart from this style, with the juxtaposition of Quiet Tension (1935), a personal highlight. In contrast, Picassos seem a bit thin on the ground, the bulk of his stuff being in the first half. Only now do I feel that some cobbling together is going on: neighbouring paintings have an identical theme and there's a distinct missing room where the freaky portraits should be.
So, if Picasso is supposed to be the main act, he's somewhat upstaged by Klee and Kandinsky. Nevertheless, if you're not too partisan or bothered about seeing the famous ones, there's a lot of quality on show.
The Museum of Fine Arts is the huge neo-classical building on the left side of Hősök tere, as you approach from Andrássy út.
Andy Sz.
Where are you when you're so low that you can't get any lower? Hungarians know exactly where you are: you're "under the frog's arse" - a suitable epithet for Tibor Fischer's black comedy about life in Hungary under the Soviets between 1944 and 1956.
With such hefty subject matter, you might expect a heavy slog but I found myself book-in-hand as I waited for the metro, as I got off a tram, as I rode a turbulent bus to Budaörs. Reading it in Budapest was like watching a play from the centre of the stage. After ten days, I put it down, having been educated, touched and thoroughly amused.
Gyuri, son of a bourgeois family, confined by the Soviets’ capsized social order, does all that he can to avoid joining the army: namely, being good enough at basketball to be employable. Tales of the naked travels of the transport workers’ team fit in well with my own experience of Hungarian humour.
Above all, Fischer finds plenty of time to talk about life. Growing up is still growing up, even if it means more crouching in cellars and police cells. Parents are still parents, even if they’ve lost the will to participate in society. On a personal level, problems are much the same, occupation or no occupation: “1950 was a good year, I almost slept with four women.”
Under The Frog is irrepressibly funny. This doesn’t undermine the significance or the devastation of the events that took place. Moreover, it puts them into the proper perspective. Too often, vast swathes of history are swallowed up in a cloud of misery, which distances us from the people and their lives. Here, the triumphs and tragedies are real, human and all the more poignant.
