Latest news with #kineticart
Telegraph
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
‘Man Ray was very intense... I wasn't shy and I was pretty and that helped'
The American artist Liliane Lijn works in an old textile warehouse in north London, a low brick building with vast wooden doors. On a cold spring morning, she opens them dressed in silvery green, yellow and azure blue, as if she had recently escaped from a Matisse painting. Lijn, who has lived in Britain for nearly 60 years, made her mark with the kinetic art movement in early 1960s Paris and the counterculture scene in Swinging London. Now 85, she remains a lively force, with intense eyes and a brisk confidence. 'Let me turn some work on,' says Lijn, as she ushers me into her studio, where rooms unfold around a glass courtyard. She leads the way, flicking various switches, and one artwork after another slowly grinds into action, filling the space with tocks and clicks. Lijn has an exhibition at Tate St Ives this month, Arise Alive. It coincides with the publication of her memoir and the display of two pieces in Tate Modern's group show Electric Dreams. St Ives is the coup, though. Despite having a rich body of work and a successful career, it is her first major museum survey in Britain – and sorely overdue. 'Kinetic art was never taken seriously by the establishment,' Lijn tells me. 'It wasn't marketable and that was a problem. I had a period in the 1990s where there was practically no interest in my work. Of course it was depressing, but somehow I didn't really doubt what I was doing. I always felt I was on the right path.' Arise Alive is conceived jointly with Haus der Kunst in Munich and Vienna's museum of modern art, Mumok. The display has been slightly adapted for St Ives by Tate director Anne Barlow, who says she believes Lijn has been 'consistently ahead of her time. Over the past six decades, her work has had significant influence. This focus on her now feels very important.' Lijn's art is easy to like, less so to define. Typically, it takes the form of sculpture or installation, but she has also created prints, performances and a libretto. It depicts cosmological phenomena, energy, light and vibration, sometimes drawing on myths and archetypes. Words are a recurring feature, as are futuristic materials. In the 1960s that meant various plastics; today, something like aerogel, a solid that is typically 98 per cent air and is used by Nasa to collect interstellar dust. Lijn shows me some of the work she made with it during a Nasa-funded fellowship at the Space Sciences Laboratory in Berkeley, California, in 2005. 'Stardust' is hermetically sealed inside a vitrine, and breathtaking: a cluster of milky shards with blurry edges, which resembles glowing, frozen smoke. 'I broke it a lot at first,' she says. 'But they told me: everything fragments. It's important to every cosmic process, and so that became the piece.' Nearby stands a twisting female form made of sheet mica frills – Lijn's husband of 55 years, Stephen Weiss, used to own a mica factory – and some Poemdrums, nested cylinders bearing words, the layers of which rotate at different speeds. They are descendants of the Poem Machines with which Lijn enraptured Paris in the 1960s: Letraset words on a motorised drum that in motion creates a pattern, 'pregnant with energy', as Lijn describes it. Perhaps it makes sense that Lijn was drawn to make art that reflects on the forces of the cosmos. She came of age during a time of exhilarating technological and scientific advances, after all, not least the space race. Born Liliane Segall in 1939 (she changed her name to avoid any confusion with the American pop artist George Segal), she grew up in New York, the elder child of Russian Jews who had fled Nazi Germany. Her father played the violin, her grandmother sang sad Russian songs; her mother 'did everything beautifully without any mistakes'. At home, conversation centred on literature and philosophy. When she was 14, her family resettled in Switzerland. By 18, Lijn had left for Paris to study archaeology at the Sorbonne and art history at the Ecole du Louvre. She lasted six months. 'When I told my father I was quitting to be an artist, he said, 'Well, I should have known you would do that.'' Lijn devised her own programme of learning: long hours in museums, drawing classes with the painter and filmmaker Robert Lapoujade, evenings at the Blue Note jazz club. Of greatest importance, however, was an introduction to the surrealist cafés, via the painter Manina, the mother of a school friend. Here, Lijn met the artists Max Ernst, Roberto Matta and Meret Oppenheim, the poet Joyce Mansour, and the grandaddy of surrealism himself, André Breton. 'He was very formal, kiss your hand, that sort of thing,' says Lijn. 'There was still a glamour attached to the group and it felt exciting to go – I had read practically everything Breton wrote – but surrealism was disintegrating. Breton had excommunicated so many. It was kind of sad, and when they just gossiped about other people, even boring. It could also be tough for women, but the thing is that I wasn't shy and I was pretty, and that helped.' The Greek artist Takis, a former pupil of the sculptor Constantin Brâncuşi, who experimented with kinetic pieces that used magnets, was the first to take Lijn's work seriously. They married in 1961 (she taught herself Greek by reading Aristophanes with a dictionary) and had a son, Thanos, the following year. She also has a son, Mischa, and a daughter, Sheba, with Weiss. Between 1961 and 1963, Lijn and Takis lived in New York City. She shares fragments of her time there with me: meeting Franz Kline –'but abstract expressionism was over, more or less; those artists were old heroes' – and buying so much Perspex from a store in Lower Manhattan that the owner cleared his second floor for her experiments. On returning to Paris, Lijn began devouring scientific journals. 'I thought that with physics, which is about the very small, and astronomy, which is about the very large, I would somehow get an understanding of reality,' she tells me. 'I wanted to understand what reality was beyond the image of it, to be illuminated, in the Buddhist sense. That, to me, is the most important function of art.' In 1963, she held her first solo exhibition. The great photographer Man Ray visited, and was so impressed by her Poem Machines that he invited her to his studio. He was 'warm and friendly', but 'very intense'. The Beat author William S Burroughs was similarly taken, and she became a regular at the Beat Hotel. 'He wanted to make his text move off the page, and I was very excited about that. But Takis said, 'You don't want to do that', and he had a very persuasive way.' The lack of other female artists disturbed her – 'I'd go to exhibitions and look for them' – but she found a mentor in Caresse Crosby, patron to Salvador Dalí and Ernest Hemingway. Peggy Guggenheim was another champion and friend. Lijn performed at the famed collector's 61st birthday party in Venice. In 1966, Lijn moved to London, where she had been invited to exhibit at Signals, a new gallery dedicated to kinetic art. She drove all the way from Athens, but found Signals had shut, having lost its funding after the management criticised the Vietnam War. John Dunbar, the 22-year-old owner of the Indica Gallery (married at the time to the crown princess of Swinging London, Marianne Faithfull) came to the rescue. He had taken on a few Signals artists and extended the offer to Lijn. 'I met Liliane through Takis,' Dunbar tells me, 'but I chose the work I showed on the basis of impulse.' He still has 8mm footage of her 1967 exhibition, which debuted the kinetic work Liquid Reflections (1966-68). Its Perspex spheres mimic planetary forces by rolling across a hollow acrylic disc of condensed liquid. Lijn had landed on her feet: Indica was the hippest gallery in London at the time. Dunbar's co-founders were the author Barry Miles and the pop star Pete Asher (brother of Jane). Paul McCartney helped paint the walls and put up shelves, and Dunbar had recently staged Yoko Ono's first London show. Lijn recalls a dinner at which she 'chatted peace and love' with McCartney. 'He said he didn't understand why people couldn't love each other.' Exhibitions at the Hanover Gallery in 1970 and the Serpentine in 1976 kept Lijn in London. 'I was very successful here, it was a good anchor,' she says. 'And, of course, I met Stephen.' View this post on Instagram A post shared by Tate St Ives (@tatestives) In her office, with its egg-yolk-yellow floor, Lijn pulls out a box of old journals and leaves me to leaf through them. The pages are a mix of scrawled impressions, self-admonishments and fierce resolutions. 'I'm determined, that's just a character trait,' she says. She makes coffee and we sit at a table she designed herself, a circle of glass set on striped ceramic cones. Cones have appeared in her work since the mid-1960s. She calls them 'koans', after the puzzles used in Buddhist meditation, and explains that 'all energy is emitted in a conical form'. Her conversation is filled with things like this – talk of quasars and whether the universe is mathematical, and we are mathematical beings, and that is the way we understand the cosmos. I ask Lijn how this stash of prodigious scientific knowledge sits with her interest in myth and spirituality. 'Oh, quite nicely,' she replies. 'I think what many scientists think: that there are a lot of things we don't know or understand, and one of those things is consciousness. The unconscious is the wellspring, where all the most important discoveries are made, in science and art, and in poetry and music.' It is her view that eventually science will understand 'the entanglement of our mind with the universe. If we're not all blown to smithereens by some idiot, that is.' She smiles. 'I hope I have a few more years.'
CNA
07-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CNA
6 extraordinary clocks by Chanel, Patek Philippe and more at Watches and Wonders 2025
Part conversation piece, part kinetic art, clocks remind us that horology's most evocative expressions sometimes need a grander stage than the wrist. At Watches and Wonders Geneva 2025, that stage was filled with a remarkable new wave of desk clocks, automata, and mechanical sculptures. From Chanel's gem-encrusted lion to Panerai's astronomical homage to Galileo, from Trilobe's sensorial sculpture-meets-timepiece to Patek Philippe's heirloom-worthy marvel, and Van Cleef & Arpels' orbiting planets and fluttering Cupid, these six creations offered a visual feast and poetic storytelling in motion. CHANEL Born under the sign of Leo, Gabrielle Chanel embraced the lion as her personal emblem, which continues to inspire the maison's creations today. At Watches and Wonders Geneva 2025, Chanel unveiled an extraordinary one-of-a-kind expression of this connection as part of the sumptuous Lion of Mademoiselle collection: The Diamonds Astroclock. Executed in white gold and snow-set with 5,037 brilliant-cut diamonds, the majestic beast rests its paw protectively on a polished obsidian sphere. Encased within a glass globe, the sophisticated self-winding mechanical movement with an eight-day power reserve brings poetry to the passing hours. A comet-shaped hand, set with 11 diamonds, elegantly traverses the rotating planetary dial to indicate the hours. Minutes are gracefully marked by a diamond-set hand styled as the Leo constellation. A discreetly rotating white gold sphere, festooned with 66 glittering diamonds, subtly signals the mechanism in motion. The result of eight months' painstaking craftsmanship, the mesmerising timekeeper fuses high watchmaking with jewellery savoir-faire. Each diamond was individually selected and expertly placed by hand to create a hypnotic texture and brilliance across the lion's fur and features. PANERAI Panerai's Jupiterium is a mesmerising tribute to Galileo Galilei's revolutionary astronomical discoveries. Showcased as part of Panerai's ambitious creations, this planetarium clock captures Galileo's 1610 discovery of Jupiter's four largest moons, known today as Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto – key celestial bodies that challenged the long-standing geocentric model of the universe. Weighing around 110kg and measuring 75cm wide and 86cm high, the Jupiterium boasts a sophisticated manual-winding mechanism composed of 1,650 titanium components. Powered by eight spring barrels delivering a generous 40-day power reserve, the intricate system features a unique perpetual calendar accurate until the year 2099 without adjustment, capable of tracking day, date, month, and year with flawless precision. A distinctive feature of the creation is its accurate depiction of retrograde motion – a visual phenomenon where Jupiter seems to briefly reverse its direction when observed from Earth. Panerai achieves this illusion through the use of a patented mechanism, which employs carefully calibrated gears and counterweights that showcase the Italian manufacture's technical prowess. The display itself is awe-inspiring, with Earth positioned prominently at its heart, encircled by a celestial sphere displaying constellations illuminated with Super-LumiNova. This sphere completes a full rotation every 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds, precisely simulating a sidereal day. At its base, the dial clearly presents hours, minutes, and seconds, alongside an AM/PM indicator and linear power reserve marked '40 giorni' (40 days). Encased in glass atop a richly lacquered mahogany base, the architectural masterpiece is an invitation to marvel at humanity's unwavering fascination with the cosmos. PATEK PHILIPPE The revered Swiss watchmaker returns to the world of grand horology with the awe-inspiring Ref. 27000M-001 complicated desk clock from the 2025 Rare Handcrafts collection – a tribute to the maison's historical masterpieces and its boundless technical ingenuity. Inspired by two iconic desk clocks it created for American magnates and horology connoisseurs James Ward Packard and Henry Graves Jr in 1923 and 1927 respectively, the timekeeper is proof that Patek Philippe's horological mastery knows no bounds, whether worn on the wrist or placed on a collector's desk. Packard, an automobile magnate who created the first luxury car in the US, and Graves, a New York banker, who was obsessed with owning the most complicated timepieces, were among Patek Philippe's most prominent patrons in the early 20th-century. A result of seven years' development, the clock's newly developed calibre 86-135 PEND S IRM Q SE comprises 912 components, of which almost half are for the perpetual calendar. The clock's development led to the filing of nine patent applications for innovations and optimisations, including strengthening long-term reliability, reducing the perpetual calendar's energy consumption, and securing the functions against any inadvertent mishandling. The manually wound movement also offers a 31-day power reserve and an incredible precision of ±1 second per day, all thanks to a patented constant-force mechanism that maintains the amplitude of the balance wheel throughout its power cycle. Patek Philippe drew inspiration from the ornate detailing of the 1923 Packard model, reinterpreting the elements with refined elegance. Panels of green Grand Feu flinque enamel, applied over intricate swirling guilloche, adorn a sterling silver cabinet. A technique mastered by only a few artisans, enamelling on silver requires exceptional skill as the metal's relatively low melting point of 890 degrees Celsius comes dangerously close to enamel firing temperatures of 800 degrees Celsius to 900 degrees Celsius. The clock's upper panel and bezel are framed by a delicately engraved cord motif, while decorative elements in vermeil (silver gilt) pay tribute to the original timepiece. These include three rosettes positioned at the corners and at 12 o'clock, acanthus scrollwork surrounding the Calatrava cross, and four majestic winged lions forming the clock's feet. Measuring 16.4cm in length, 12.5cm in width, and 7.6cm high, the eye-catching creation commands attention wherever it's displayed. Discreetly tucked beneath the hinged American walnut cover is a mechanical push-button control panel, which offers intuitive time-setting. This ingenious feature brings modern user-friendliness to a classic form, delivering an ease of operation worthy of a 21st-century timepiece. TRILOBE With Le Temps Retrouve, French independent watchmaker Trilobe defies our most fundamental assumptions about how time is perceived. Neither a watch, clock, nor an automaton, this creation first presents itself as a sculpted bust – enigmatic and devoid of numerals or hands. But look closer, and it reveals itself as a mind-blowing fusion of horology, art, and sensory experience. Inspired by Marcel Proust's literary masterpiece In Search of Lost Time, this piece reimagines time not as a rigid measurement, but as an emotional, almost meditative experience. Conceived after four years of development and more than 3,000 hours of meticulous assembly, every Le Temps Retrouve is entirely bespoke. A visual artist at the Stephane Gerard Atelier in Paris sculpts each bust in the likeness of a customer or their loved one. The innovative display requires observers to slow down, inviting a moment of reflection. Hours unfold with a poetic grace as rosettes, set on both temples, gently open one petal every hour before closing after a cycle of 12 hours. Minutes are subtly indicated by the gentle rotation of the bust's eyes, its expression shifting just a touch with each passing moment. Seconds, in a philosophical departure, are felt rather than seen – suggested through the sculpture's breath-like rhythm in the form of a subtle heartbeat ticking deep within. Beyond the visual, the piece engages other senses. Crafted from marble ceramic and lined internally with palladium, the sculpture absorbs warmth from touch, as if breathing life. An integrated perfume mechanism diffuses a unique fragrance – developed with each client through a personal consultation with a Parisian perfumer – adding another layer in this richly immersive experience. The technical complexity is extraordinary. Requiring over 2,000 hours to assemble, the mechanism comprises a 2,050-component movement developed by Manufacture Masur in Sainte-Croix, Switzerland. Its spatialised architecture houses an eight-day power reserve, recoil anchor escapement, and a worm gear system that animates the sculpture's gaze. With 95 per cent of the components custom-made, every movement is a marvel of micro-engineering. VAN CLEEF & ARPELS Since 1906, the French jeweller has captured imaginations with precious objects that beautifully blend artistry and surprise. From vintage powder compacts to intricate automata, each creation reflects the house's rich heritage and mastery of metiers d'art, where time, beauty, and movement come together in poetic harmony. This tradition continues with two new extraordinary timekeepers that showcase the maison's singular vision of time and storytelling. Naissance de l'Amour automaton Van Cleef & Arpels evokes wonder with the enchanting Naissance de l'Amour. Standing about 30cm tall, this delightful kinetic sculpture captures the tender grace of Cupid, masterfully crafted from white, rose, and yellow gold, and accented with diamonds. Rising from a feather-lined basket crafted in rose, white, and yellow gold, the figure of Cupid gently emerges, his plique-a-jour enamel wings fluttering as he turns gracefully to the sound of a carillon melody. After his delicate ascent, he returns to his hidden sanctuary, making the entire motion feel like a fleeting moment of magic. The automaton's movement was developed in collaboration with master automaton-maker Francois Junod in Sainte-Croix, Switzerland. Every detail is a study in craftsmanship. Cupid perches atop a rose gold Greek column, surrounded by a cloud composition set with diamonds and pink sapphires in varying hues. The entire base is carved from richly textured iron eye stone, while a bowl of petrified palmwood –a material newly introduced by the maison – cradles the feathered nest. A rotating ring just above the base indicates the time via two lacquered feathers tipped with diamonds and elegantly secured by a diamond-set bow. Planetarium automaton Van Cleef & Arpels reaches for the stars quite literally with this new celestial marvel. A majestic addition to the maison's Poetic Astronomy universe, this phenomenal object reinterprets 18th-century mechanical planetariums on a scale that's as monumental as it is mesmerising. Measuring 50cm high and 66.5cm wide, the automaton displays the planets visible from Earth – Mercury, Venus, Earth (with its Moon), Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn – orbiting a radiant Sun at their true astronomical speeds. Driven by a complex in-house mechanical movement, each planet completes its orbit in real time, from Mercury's 88 days to Saturn's 29.5 years. The Moon circles the Earth every 27.3 days, adding a poetic cadence to the scene. Activated on demand, a rose gold shooting star adorned with Mystery Set rubies and diamonds sweeps across a 24-hour dial to display the time and is accompanied by a chime from 15 visible bells beneath a custom-blown crystal dome. Materials and symbolism elevate the spectacle. The Sun glows with spessartite garnets, yellow sapphires, and diamonds on a trembleur setting. Surrounding it are planets are crafted from ornamental stones: Mercury in chalcedony, white gold and blue sapphires; Venus in rose quartz and pink sapphires with shell motifs; Earth in green jasper and blue sapphires, accompanied by its pearl Moon; Mars in moonstone, rose gold, and pink sapphires; Jupiter with a jasper core rimmed in yellow gold and diamonds; and Saturn, adorned with jet and white gold rings accented by sapphires. Placed in a concentric pattern within the dial are 15 lapis lazuli discs, inlaid with rose and white gold stars and closed-set diamonds to evoke the majesty of the cosmos. Set atop a wood base of lemonwood, holly, and ziricote, the Planetarium also includes a perpetual calendar, as well as day/night and 15-day power reserve indicators.
