I witnessed two incredibly inspiring things this past week.
The first was the six hour long, re-tooled Beatles film by Peter Jackson (now appropriately titled “Get Back”) and the second, the absolute gem of an art exhibition at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, reuniting the six Titian “Poesie” masterpieces into one room. At a time of the year when most of our collective attention is forced away from anything meaningful by the ceaseless onslaught of holiday consumerism, both of these events were most welcome and refreshing. I consider them an early Christmas gift that I will treasure forever.
The original Beatles film, “Let It Be” was released in 1970 when I was 13 years old. Because it was 1970, it released in movie theaters only, and, living in the sticks, I didn’t see it until much later, but I remember the general consensus at the time was that it was nothing more than a sordid chronicle of a musical divorce, highlighting the bickering, in-fighting and back-stabbing of the once lovable “Fab Four.” Despite being a fairly solid Beatles fan, I remember not wanting to see it because it sounded depressing. I did tune in with my family to Ed Sullivan when he premiered a portion that introduced us to the new song “Let It Be.” Though I liked the song from the get-go, I was disappointed that it wasn’t live and only a pre-recorded film. It felt like a cop-out, compared to the excitement of the original Sullivan performance six years earlier.
This film, gleaned from sixty hours of original tape footage, piqued my interest from the moment it was announced. First, it was being edited by Peter Jackson, a master filmmaker, and second, the music was being produced by Giles Martin, son of the “fifth Beatle,” George Martin. Jackson’s touch promised an influx of a true fan of the band, and Martin has always been an ardent archivist and handler of their musical heritage.
So, why was this rock n’ roll extravaganza such a meaningful moment for a humble painter? Because it is a rare, lightly (if at all) edited recording of the creative process. Unencumbered by any outside demands, three pioneers - (sorry, Ringo) - OK, really two and a half (sorry George) of a groundbreaking art form - are shown behind the curtain, crafting music that is as powerful and memorable today as it was fifty years ago. Many will consider it monotonous, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the spectacle. It was as if, dare I say it, someone was there to film Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. A priceless historical record.
The great Titian painting, “The Rape of Europa” was required viewing for painting students when I was in Art School. Our teachers’ stressed that not only was anything by Titian very rare, this one was by far, the most important Titian in North America. I found out later that it was actually the first Renaissance painting EVER to come to America. The piece itself is one of six mythological scenes painted by Titian for King Philip II of Spain, and this show represented the first time in 500 YEARS that they were all reunited into the same room, as the artist intended. 500 YEARS!! That alone is impetus to get to the show. But, when you get there and are actually standing in this (sorry, John Updike) quaint little bandbox of a gallery, the beauty and mastery of the artist washes over you and I, for one, was truly awe-struck. As a painter, and student of painting, different things hit you all at once - the design of the groups of figures, the interaction of their limbs and, especially, their gazes - the color, most notably in the skin tones. In fact, I focused for a long time on the warm colors and values of the black woman in the lower right corner of “Diana and Actaeon” Rarely have I seen such nuance in the flesh of a person of color in work from that era).
As I’ve written before, the arts are, at a base level, about telling stories. In the space of a week, I was privileged enough to see both the process of making something exceptional out of nothing and the reuniting of six chapters of a mythological tour de force. Four scruffy working class musicians from 1970’s England and one middle-aged painter from 1500 Venice. Same purpose, same passion.