The design of Futurism, an exhibit of Futurist movement sculpture, painting, furniture, clothing and writings, purports to demonstrate how contemporary the movement was by focusing on its obsession with youth, speed, and technology, but glosses over its violent, anti-environment, anti-feminist and fascist elements. Consequently, the show, installed in the bowels of the recently un-renamed Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall to mark the centenary of the Futurist movement’s founding, fails to explain the ideological underpinnings that facilitated its rise.
Filippo Tommaso Marinetti proclaimed the arrival of the art movement in his Futurist Manifesto, a screed published in Le Figaro in 1909. “We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism and all opportunist and utilitarian cowardice ... We want to exalt movements of aggression, feverish sleeplessness, the double march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist.” The original article, along with many other futurist writings, is displayed at the exhibition, but it would require a telescope to read as it is fixed under glass that is displayed about 1.5m behind a barrier. There is no accompanying Chinese- or English-language translation.
And yet, although the ideological aspects that gave birth to the movement are barely touched upon, the chronological and artist-centered structure of the exhibit is notable because it illustrates the manner in which the artists’ pictorial experiments thematically investigate the development of some of the era’s technologies — particularly the speed of vehicles — and social developments, such as the growth of cities.
“[T]he world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed,” Marinetti wrote in his Manifesto. “We want to sing the man at the wheel, the ideal axis of which crosses the earth, itself hurled along its orbit.”
Giacomo Balla explores this dispensation in Velocita + Luci. The shapes painted on the canvas are fractured into parallel and circular strokes of browns reminiscent of a car’s outline. Beams of white emanate from these forms and express the velocity of automobiles.
Roberto M. Baldessari also investigates the motion of vehicles in Treno alla Stazione di Lugo. The focal point of the painting is a woman dressed in red who is approaching a steaming locomotive that is in the process of entering a station. Employing a visual language similar to the Cubists, the lines in the immediate foreground are fragmented in a way to offer multiple perspectives, while the background trails off into a blur. It deftly replicates the perception of looking through the window of a train moving at full speed.
The city, with its industrial buildings and frenetic street activity, was a favorite subject of the Futurists.
Ivo Pannaggi examines the relationship between man and architecture in Il Lavoro. The painting shows a man standing triumphantly on the upper reaches of a partially finished building and peering down at two fellow workers below. Verossi’s (Albino Siviero) In Volo su Ponte Pietra offers us a look at what Pannaggi’s human figure might see. The viewer is looking at a canal many stories below, the straight lines of the waterway and bridge that spans it suggest feats of engineering perfection and man’s control over nature.
Whereas the earlier canvases portray a terrestrial perspective, Tullio Crali transports the viewer up into the sky Incuneandosi Nell’abitato. Here we see the city from an airplane cockpit as it nosedives towards the ground.
Though concerned with depicting the latest technological advancements and their effects on human perceptions, the Futurists were also interested in putting their stamp on everyday items, as is demonstrated by the clothing, sculpture and furniture that make up the middle part of the exhibit.
These objects along with the themes of the paintings demonstrate the relevance of the Futurists to our own society. And yet, it’s difficult to imagine that the organizers weren’t aware of the message they were sending when they decided to hold an exhibit of artists who celebrated war and fascism — without focusing on the more politically sensitive aspects of the movement — within the walls of a monument built to memorialize a right-wing dictator.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
President William Lai’s (賴清德) March 13 national security speech marked a turning point. He signaled that the government was finally getting serious about a whole-of-society approach to defending the nation. The presidential office summarized his speech succinctly: “President Lai introduced 17 major strategies to respond to five major national security and united front threats Taiwan now faces: China’s threat to national sovereignty, its threats from infiltration and espionage activities targeting Taiwan’s military, its threats aimed at obscuring the national identity of the people of Taiwan, its threats from united front infiltration into Taiwanese society through cross-strait exchanges, and its threats from
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
RSS