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A walk through history
I am currently in Japan. This is a country that I had never really wanted to visit, although I thought it kind of interesting. My grandfather, a naval man who lived all over the world while my mother was growing up, always said that Japan was the place he wanted to settle, but his wife, my grandmother, disagreed so he didn’t get that chance. My daughter is a huge fan of Japanese culture and so, for her graduation from high school, I promised her a trip to the Land of the Rising Sun. Our first day was uneventful and took us to see the NTV Big Clock designed by Hayao Miyazaki (her favorite director; Studio Ghibli fans will now know that there is a theme to my daughter’s trip here). It was as cute as I expected, but a long walk. Distances that Google Maps say are walkable seem to expand once you are walking them, when the reality of the heat, the humidity and the unrelentless size of the place hit home. Day two however, was a walk into the past. My first stop was the Center for the Tokyo Air Raids and War Damage. As you might know, the people of Japan bore the brunt of retaliations for Japan’s actions during World War 2. The museum is about them, the people who died or were left homeless in the air raids. Honestly, I did not know that much about the topic, and it was eye opening. It is very much from a civilian point of view; kind of neutral and acknowledging that, yes, we got the shit kicked out of us because of what the country did – that’s how war is. Small, it is jammed full of stories, personal items and anecdotes, the things that make narratives real. You are aware that these were real people, while maps and photographs showed the scale of the destruction. A thoroughly interesting place and run by incredibly sweet people. It is set in a peaceful neighborhood – one that was affected by the bombing - full of houses, not apartments, workshops, and parks. It was not easy to find, being a 20 minute walk from the metro, but I did find it and it was well worth it. Next on my exploration of war time Tokyo was the Yasukuni-jinja shrine. I’ll leave the controversy about this place aside and focus on what I felt. It was an oasis of calm in the chaos that is this city. All through the grounds are flowers wrought in different artistic styles – I think cherry blossoms or lotus flowers, I really don’t know – which added a whimsical sort of charm. This was not some grand adventure, nor exhaustive exploration into wartime Tokyo. Many reminders have been bulldozed by progress as the city continues to explode upwards and outwards, but these are two places that seek to remember. To me, exploring a city means finding these memories of the past and I’m glad I made the effort. Tokyo is exhausting in its size, literally dwarfing you. Some relish these kinds of experiences, but I’ve always been a quiet sort of traveler, looking for pockets of history or calm within the noise. I certainly haven’t seen much of Japan’s capital, but I have caught a glimpse of something that I thought was gone, and that’s my own curiosity. Lately, I have felt very lost, like life was just a chore that I had to endure on a daily basis. I felt no interest, no spark, my creativity was drained to zero. But this little walk-through time brought me back to who I once was. I started to feel alive again. Ideas started to pop back in my head, possibilities began to feel possible. So, I might have gone to Tokyo and not experienced the nightlife of Shinjuku or any crazy adventures, but I find something of myself, and that, I think is the whole purpose of traveling.
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We’ve all experienced it, arriving in a strange city and setting off to explore it, not knowing where we are going or where we’ll end up. We wander the streets, bewildered by the unfamiliarity of it all, searching for something that connects us to our normal.
I walked along the streets of Richmond, BC in search of Walmart. Don’t judge me, I needed a goal, however mundane, and it seemed as good as any. My days of happily getting lost in strange places are behind me, needing now a sense of purpose. Anyway, my projected route was fraught with construction. The city is sprouting blocks upon blocks of tall, soulless buildings, proudly displaying dual language signs offering the joys of living there. While I can imagine the views – mountains and sea stretching in all horizons – could be stunning, there is a conformity about these places; dull, grey, structurally linear. So, I altered my path, my footsteps taking me down a treelined street which heralded a tantalizing sign – ART WALK! Now, call me cynical, but although this will draw my attention, my expectations for such things are not high. The sign was crudely drawn, and I assumed that there would be a rag tag bunch of artists with an eclectic range of works from the bad to the diabolical. However, I was both surprised and delighted to see that I was very wrong. I came across the studio of an artist whose work was a delightful riot of color and form, and the artist herself was warm and friendly, busy explaining to two gentlemen her purpose and style. I browsed while she chatted, then introduced myself. From Catherine – for that was her name – I got the story of the space she occupied and what I feel all cities should do for their creative inhabitants. Catherine’s studio is part of a project where the city included live/work spaces for creatives – not just artists, but musicians, writers, actors, etc. – so that they could do what they love. The rationale was to not just let developers put up buildings for the rich to live in, but also affordable places for people who work in the creative industries. There was an application process, but now there is a lively community of people in the heart of an area that is rapidly transforming. While the studio is not huge, it is definitely livable for one person or even a couple, and the location is fabulous. As an artist, I know how difficult it is to balance survival with my creative work. When we choose to follow this path, we choose a life of hustling and graft. There is precious little support for artists, whether practical – like what Richmond is providing – or monetary – and initiatives like this should be available in all urban areas. Art makes life livable, makes cities vibrant and unique, and therefore the support of artists should be of great importance to local government. Projects like this one show how private companies and public bodies can work together in creating places to live and work, enhancing the wider environment and generally making life better for all.
Quilting holds a unique place in American heritage, an art form that weaves together threads of history, culture, and creativity. Originating as a practical craft, quilts were initially made to provide warmth and comfort, often crafted from scraps of fabric or worn-out clothing. Over time, this humble domestic necessity evolved into a highly respected art form, reflecting the diverse experiences, values, and artistic expressions of American life. The roots of quilt-making in America can be traced back to the early colonial period, where European settlers brought their traditions and techniques to the New World. These early quilts were often simple and utilitarian, but they laid the foundation for a craft that would grow increasingly intricate and symbolic. As the nation expanded westward, quilting became a communal activity, with quilting bees serving as social gatherings where women would come together to stitch, share stories, and support one another. This communal aspect of quilt-making fostered a strong sense of community and continuity, passing down skills and traditions from one generation to the next. During the 19th century, quilts became a canvas for storytelling, often reflecting the social and political climates of the time. The Underground Railroad, for example, is famously associated with quilts, where some historians suggest that specific patterns and symbols were used to convey messages to escaping slaves. Whether or not this is true, it highlights the quilt's role as a vehicle for expression and resistance. Similarly, quilts during the Civil War often carried patriotic themes, with women creating quilts to raise funds for soldiers or to provide comfort to those in need. The 20th century marked a significant transformation in quilt art, as the craft began to be recognized for its artistic value. The rise of the American Modernist movement in the early 1900s, along with a renewed interest in folk art, brought quilts into the realm of fine art. Artists like Georgia O'Keeffe and the abstract expressionists drew inspiration from quilt patterns, recognizing their bold designs and vivid colors as a uniquely American aesthetic. This period also saw the emergence of African American quilt-making traditions, particularly in the southern United States, where vibrant and improvisational styles flourished, contributing richly to the nation’s artistic heritage. Today, quilt art continues to thrive, celebrated both as a link to the past and as a vibrant, evolving art form. Contemporary quilters push the boundaries of the medium, experimenting with new materials, techniques, and themes while honoring the deep-rooted traditions that have shaped the craft. Quilts are no longer confined to the home or the bed; they hang in museums, galleries, and public spaces, telling stories of resilience, identity, and creativity. As an art form, quilt-making embodies the spirit of American innovation, community, and diversity, stitching together the fabric of a nation's heritage. Wisconsin quilt artist, Mary Spaay, kindly allowed us to see some of her collection of works. Inspired by things as diverse as nature and local football, architecture and the deep ocean, Mary's quilts are quite simply pieces of art. Using textures, patterns, stitching and color to tell a story, each one is a unique narrative, poetry in fabric.  La journee et bataille de castlen ou talbot et plusieurs angloys furent tuez. Manuscript illumination from Martial d'Auvergne, Les Vigiles de Charles VII (1484) The development of gunpowder and artillery at the end of the Middle Ages marked a significant turning point in military history, but its impact extended beyond the battlefield. This technological advancement contributed to the broader cultural and scientific shifts of the Renaissance, influencing various fields, including art. The introduction of linear perspective in painting, a hallmark of Renaissance art, can be partially attributed to the geometric and spatial understanding necessitated by these military innovations. However, this was only one of many factors, including the rediscovery of classical antiquity, the rise of humanism, and the innovative contributions of individual artists, that collectively transformed the artistic landscape of the time.
Military and Engineering Advances: The development and use of gunpowder and artillery required significant advancements in military engineering. This, in turn, led to a better understanding of geometry and spatial relationships, which could influence artists' understanding of perspective. Fortification designs needed to account for new artillery capabilities, often involved complex geometric calculations. Artists engaged in these projects would gain insight into linear perspective. Scientific and Mathematical Growth: The same period saw a rise in interest in mathematics and science, partly driven by practical military needs, which led to a greater understanding of optics and geometry. Which led to linear perspective, The three components essential to the linear perspective system are orthogonal (parallel lines), the horizon line, and a vanishing point. So as to appear farther from the viewer, objects in the compositions are rendered increasingly smaller as they near the vanishing point. Early application of the rules can be seen in Donatello’s relief St. George Killing the Dragon (c. 1416–17) and Masaccio’s painting The Holy Trinity (1425–27), Leonardo da Vinci, and German artist Albrecht Dürer are considered some of the early masters of linear perspective. As the limitations of linear perspective became apparent, artists invented additional devices (e.g., foreshortening and anamorphosis) to achieve the most-convincing illusion of space and distance. Figures like Leon Battista Alberti, who wrote "De pictura" (On Painting) in 1435, applied mathematical principles to art, promoting the use of linear perspective. Cross-Disciplinary Knowledge: Renaissance artists often worked across multiple fields, including engineering and architecture. The skills and knowledge gained in these areas, including those influenced by military advancements, fed back into their art. Artists like Leonardo da Vinci epitomized the Renaissance man, integrating scientific study and artistic practice. His study of machines of war, which included designs for artillery, reflected his deep understanding of mechanics and spatial relations. Broader Context of Artistic Perspective: While the development of gunpowder and artillery did have an indirect influence, it is crucial to place this within the broader context of the Renaissance: Rediscovery of Classical Antiquity: The Renaissance was marked by a renewed interest in the art and science of ancient Greece and Rome. The study of ancient texts on optics and geometry greatly influenced Renaissance art. Humanism: The humanist movement emphasized the study of subjects like philosophy, literature, and art, focusing on human experience and observation. This led artists to explore more realistic and proportionate ways of representing space. Innovations by Individual Artists: Artists like Filippo Brunelleschi and Masaccio played pivotal roles in the development of perspective. Brunelleschi's experiments with linear perspective around 1415 were crucial in this regard. Technological and Cultural Synergy: The invention of the printing press around 1440 allowed for the widespread dissemination of knowledge, including treatises on perspective. Conclusion While gunpowder and artillery influenced the scientific and engineering advancements of the time, which in turn contributed to a better understanding of perspective, they were part of a larger mosaic of influences that included rediscovered classical knowledge, humanist philosophy, and individual artistic innovation. Thus, their impact on the development of perspective in art should be seen as part of a complex interplay of various factors during the Renaissance. |
