tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638466182377013642024-03-26T21:00:02.800-07:00Cartooniana"CARTOON ART IS A SERIOUS MATTER IN A WORLD THAT IS NOT" (Michel Kichka)Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comBlogger783125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-91400689615776373072024-03-11T05:44:00.000-07:002024-03-11T05:44:55.111-07:00The First Murder<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdMe5CTiT0OMa0_dAHS8XiYcN4Bpn_qnBSV3SSHVhyphenhyphenn63rcvlz01-ilWdaX2Qzsa_BhAA9EtP5Y0CT6Mdx8LYbQfNTgCWmV1tOW9z90g1MMfz-sbhvsSO8Cb24ymgmbJANSk0k9dWl8GMl0-skN__wwwiHH_0aTHotbigl-fbOfkrtNlBNK8vrifhnjc/s1655/428598122_7502049609847390_4504552667247736348_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1472" data-original-width="1655" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdMe5CTiT0OMa0_dAHS8XiYcN4Bpn_qnBSV3SSHVhyphenhyphenn63rcvlz01-ilWdaX2Qzsa_BhAA9EtP5Y0CT6Mdx8LYbQfNTgCWmV1tOW9z90g1MMfz-sbhvsSO8Cb24ymgmbJANSk0k9dWl8GMl0-skN__wwwiHH_0aTHotbigl-fbOfkrtNlBNK8vrifhnjc/s16000/428598122_7502049609847390_4504552667247736348_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mwafaq Katt, <i>Cain offering the head of Abel as a sacrifice to the Lord</i>, 2024.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><p></p><div>The original murder. The first act of war. Cain murdered his brother Abel and so he was lost.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cain's story taught us that the killing of a soul is the killing of mankind. We have officially entered another year of al-Assad waging war in Syria. What began as the Syrians' call for dignity and the right to their own life soon escalated into their murder. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cartooning is an art form small in scale, traditionally the size of a piece of paper. However, it holds monumentality. It is not just Mwafaq Katt using mixed media, giving the cartoon before us the aspect of weathered stone through centuries. It feels to be of a dimension to be placed directly in a public square to commemorate the fundamental problem of mankind. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The cartoon is courtesy of Mwafaq Katt and must not be reproduced without his permission.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-59330871826917640272024-02-22T03:03:00.000-08:002024-02-22T03:03:10.999-08:00An Icon Has Found Home<p><br /></p><p>Valdemar Andersen's portrait of author and Nobel Laureate Johannes V. Jensen has found its home as a museum piece.</p><p>The portrait has been known as a photo in black and white and heavily cropped. The painting itself has barely been seen in public since it was painted. Still, Valdemar Andersen's portrait of Johannes V. Jensen has had the status of an icon. Now it has been acquired by the Johannes V. Jensen and Thit Jensen Museum in Farsø - colloquially the Jensen Museum - for a completely new life.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6ThII5Lldrhe3_TarTA8P2A4p9gwFFr82pxNQCIFv9pzeHTK0gj4h7e1pHPcPc3YSs0gK_7X6ncGPK0joKNlpf-QnzBeBqYKTpEjBxi5xiWPTunIvDGmB6WjZLnI6_NVcORXsnTwtO6_il2711FwW5A8jog4NhqZDFHQhxSb4MsryjftC8_kluYSQYI/s1003/Valdemar%20Portr%C3%A6t%20B-kopi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6ThII5Lldrhe3_TarTA8P2A4p9gwFFr82pxNQCIFv9pzeHTK0gj4h7e1pHPcPc3YSs0gK_7X6ncGPK0joKNlpf-QnzBeBqYKTpEjBxi5xiWPTunIvDGmB6WjZLnI6_NVcORXsnTwtO6_il2711FwW5A8jog4NhqZDFHQhxSb4MsryjftC8_kluYSQYI/s16000/Valdemar%20Portr%C3%A6t%20B-kopi.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, <i>Johannes V. Jensen</i>, 1905.<br />From 2024 at the Jensen Museum.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The portrait was created during Valdemar's busiest years as a cartoonist. He belonged to the new crop of artists just after 1900 that made their presence known everywhere in public life. There were posters to be made, not to mention newspapers and a constant flow of new magazines in which their works could be widely and immediately disseminated, and Valdemar Andersen was known for his running through Copenhagen with rolls of paper tucked under his arms from one editor to the next. He was even drawn in a newspaper advertisement with said rolls of paper portrayed as a personality around town. It was crucial was to be seen and preferably everywhere so that new opportunities could arise from them.</p><p>He was not yet a cartoonist for the daily <i>Politiken</i> in 1905 since these were the early years of his career. His model was at the same stage in his course of establishing his name as a writer. They were both well underway, but their major works were still lying ahead. In 1905, Johannes V. Jensen had before him to publish poems with the intention of revolutionising a new era into being, becoming a newspaper publisher inspired from travels in the US, and declaring his own take on the evolution of the world. </p><p>So, of course, Valdemar Andersen brazenly postulated his model to be an author at the pinnacle of fame.</p><p>It is not an easy task to portray writers through their profession. They tend to be shown with pens and books, writing or reading in professional contemplation. To do so they are looking into their own world while turned away from the beholder. Valdemar Andersen chose to cut out everything. There is nothing to symbolise Johannes V. Jensen's profession other than being the mastermind confronting us the inferior beings, who are his beholders. He looks down at us with his head thrown slightly back so that we are fully aware that we are not the ones winning the confrontation.</p><p>The composition is as subtle as it is intricate. His head is placed to the left of the vertical central axis of the picture plane, while his hands are folded to the right, giving the illusion of a head and mind beyond reach. Then again, the shoulder to the left too should be the furthest from us. Instead everything on the right side is exaggerated out of proportion from the shirt flip to that right hand. Nothing is at rest. Everything on the surface is in tension.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJCTPcl1aAas8clFWRC6Ad6SLSi63KPFPmzAYR1UNUGzD-KlJBMsb8GHsn8pAn6t-BotxBFpTg1l10DKq8Tto-wlt9oVqEpb5PhG4dhfMR_3rB7qbqIRis_r7KM1t15qOE6nhx0pqazR3oAOj-XWBiNm1VK6r4YDNwScsat1xN_DxzfBrYADY0eFxZ7Y/s1000/VA%20temp%2001%2025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJCTPcl1aAas8clFWRC6Ad6SLSi63KPFPmzAYR1UNUGzD-KlJBMsb8GHsn8pAn6t-BotxBFpTg1l10DKq8Tto-wlt9oVqEpb5PhG4dhfMR_3rB7qbqIRis_r7KM1t15qOE6nhx0pqazR3oAOj-XWBiNm1VK6r4YDNwScsat1xN_DxzfBrYADY0eFxZ7Y/s16000/VA%20temp%2001%2025.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, the cover for Plat'Menagen, 1908.<br />Valdemar combined two paintings of Oscar Matthiesen of dragoons in the nude with Matthiesen's Leda and the (forgotten) swan.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>Valdemar Andersen declared himself an artist, but he did not work in a traditional art form, so there was every reason to prove his position by debuting the portrait at the censored spring exhibition at Charlottenborg in 1906. His co-exhibitors cultivated medieval tales or imitated the grandeur of the early renaissance and preferably in colossal formats that the press coverage devoured with delight and made the noise that everyone had to see that year. A few years later Valdemar Andersen teasingly drew the noisiest of the 1906-exhibition, Oscar Matthiesen, who exhibited seven meters of dragoons in the nude.</p><p>For his own portrait, however, Valdemar had found his role model in Lucas Cranach the Elder.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ04tWdjNyiEVBVkJWAoevKsvWFoU7uecOa9bgh_jBRoetaiadB8OqN7JmS9Q1JXvWfbNYvbqLGEgj5_Sz8OkfZu2SGejj7Cw2uF8F60g7Qe6jwVeshU_UEeZWqzynBDsoWBT_JcwSZyGZDFLKvKOaE9OBYiZuh-DAIidu-UaHiriQy8QtEfh8kTTQ7D4/s767/Lucas_Cranach_d-1.A%CC%88._(Werkst.)_-_Portra%CC%88t_des_Martin_Luther_(Deutsches_Historisches_Museum).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="539" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ04tWdjNyiEVBVkJWAoevKsvWFoU7uecOa9bgh_jBRoetaiadB8OqN7JmS9Q1JXvWfbNYvbqLGEgj5_Sz8OkfZu2SGejj7Cw2uF8F60g7Qe6jwVeshU_UEeZWqzynBDsoWBT_JcwSZyGZDFLKvKOaE9OBYiZuh-DAIidu-UaHiriQy8QtEfh8kTTQ7D4/s16000/Lucas_Cranach_d-1.A%CC%88._(Werkst.)_-_Portra%CC%88t_des_Martin_Luther_(Deutsches_Historisches_Museum).jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucas Cranach the Elder (Workshop), Martin Luther, 1259.<br />Photo: Deutsches Historisches Museum.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">Cranach was an artist during the first wave of Gutenberg creating his printing press, and printing was booming just after 1500. Even painting could be mass-produced from that very model, once a template was created and his workshop could reproduce it to meet demand. For the first time everyone had access to see famous people, which the church reformer Martin Luther - who was a good friend of Cranach - used to his advantage to spread his message. He became the Reformation's own saintly icon. A massive figure that monumentally, not to say physically massive, fills the entire picture plane and claims to possess an authority that cannot be contradicted. The formula was a simple and sharp drawing of the face and hands, with the massive black-clad body set against a clear background colour. It made him as easily recognizable as it was straightforward to repeat in paintings, woodcuts and etchings.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfTzQ8i5a3M9W7pQwtliXIqMdu5dlAo0s9yD9E_uZwi7Q6KNbsnFYv0B7qYzQsAjfTx5jibTqx0h4RwLaGZUV9B5Bgigliu4h5CRTI5iM61JewcB49tkARZwMp9w2_0WJ5p5DEEMjExrCMmFRNfCpmJM5SD6za518uE9fRbJQ64-Ip840PzR6C5GMnTRM/s1003/Valdemar%20Portr%C3%A6t%20Z-kopi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="1003" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfTzQ8i5a3M9W7pQwtliXIqMdu5dlAo0s9yD9E_uZwi7Q6KNbsnFYv0B7qYzQsAjfTx5jibTqx0h4RwLaGZUV9B5Bgigliu4h5CRTI5iM61JewcB49tkARZwMp9w2_0WJ5p5DEEMjExrCMmFRNfCpmJM5SD6za518uE9fRbJQ64-Ip840PzR6C5GMnTRM/s16000/Valdemar%20Portr%C3%A6t%20Z-kopi.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, detail of <i>Johannes V. Jensen</i>, 1905.<br />From 2024 at the Jensen Museum.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The portrait of Johannes V. Jensen is painted on maple wood, so the connection to Cranach was clear. The color was gouache, while details were drawn in with a pencil. Valdemar Andersen did not proclaim to be a painter. Hans used his strengths from making posters and built up the shape of the face in splotches of colour with no intention of blending them together. The model was still very young, so his furrows by the cheeks were greatly exaggerated. The furrows, like every other detail of the face, are drawn in by tiny pencil lines, so that he is sharply defined on a background of a quivering wash of colour.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The one portrait remained but that one picture and it was barely even mentioned at Charlottenborg from the noise from his co-exhibitors. So royal court photographer Peter Elfelt photographed it soon after. It was that photo of Johannes V. Jensen, which was at hand when a formal portrait of him was needed, and was reproduced throughout the next century. Cranach's formula had proved itself in the 20th century too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCwgK3RYO7cF4e4G4htfiTvJn40PLPOO097Q_ypE2ULthrn74ztW-KAH4w3xNROHMV_ZmAXTj9SKkdMt0H5WJcXK4ZXNSXKrrFCsADc9B207U6HRmJIuOlCQWgoWpMZG0RykRRI4BfSz5LZy00p-yp3zfbeKRO0MFpBYZH9MBnHw8HT5yrxYNF3alYmM/s1003/Batch%202%2001%2035%20Johs%20V%20abe-kopi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="687" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCwgK3RYO7cF4e4G4htfiTvJn40PLPOO097Q_ypE2ULthrn74ztW-KAH4w3xNROHMV_ZmAXTj9SKkdMt0H5WJcXK4ZXNSXKrrFCsADc9B207U6HRmJIuOlCQWgoWpMZG0RykRRI4BfSz5LZy00p-yp3zfbeKRO0MFpBYZH9MBnHw8HT5yrxYNF3alYmM/s16000/Batch%202%2001%2035%20Johs%20V%20abe-kopi.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, The evolution according to Johannes V. Jensen, printed in <i>Plat'Menagen</i>, 1909.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div><p>Valdemar Andersen was to draw cartoons of Johannes V. Jensen a number of times for the latter's public persona. We see how close model and portraitist both were to establishing their name in 1905 from the fact that in 1909 Valdemar drew Johannes V. Jensen as the culmination of his own writings. Johannes V. Jensen as an ape is the beginning and the perfection of evolution in the very same figure. This time a single tool is included, because Johannes V. Jensen had described the invention of fire in his novels and he could now light his cigar. His cheeks are still furrowed and the head is as always thrown back. He never stooped to the level of us, his beholders.</p><p>The painted portrait of Johannes V. Jensen has been owned by the same family for 95 years and has been well looked after. It is in mint condition as if newly painted. Johannes V. Jensen never owned it himself. From now on, it is to be seen in his own museum.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-37512491068595725042024-02-16T14:14:00.000-08:002024-02-16T14:14:11.133-08:00Rest In Power<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t1u14kMOpRpnBGmZmWRI3NLvyxB8DWQpTil70Joya5Cs5arPVsBatQxt0ZuQ-ZZkyMTYeXTt9hxZRRXBksOUNN4506N6nmlCZPF45FG0wK7ceOg97No0FNJklWuCsdp67TOgXUXsPCuLqLOO41PyDBlZJmpRkgoqczGHKZEMkFRVQb-Pn1Xkf4VgMUA/s2048/GGdmLj_aEAAcBlg.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1656" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t1u14kMOpRpnBGmZmWRI3NLvyxB8DWQpTil70Joya5Cs5arPVsBatQxt0ZuQ-ZZkyMTYeXTt9hxZRRXBksOUNN4506N6nmlCZPF45FG0wK7ceOg97No0FNJklWuCsdp67TOgXUXsPCuLqLOO41PyDBlZJmpRkgoqczGHKZEMkFRVQb-Pn1Xkf4VgMUA/s16000/GGdmLj_aEAAcBlg.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>The white of his eyes in contrast to the stark darkness at the innermost corner of his eyes. The layers of shadows with which Badiucao has created the image of a leader for the ages: Alexei Navalny - murdered by a coward of the name Putin. </p><p>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Badiucao. Please visit his homepage <a href="https://www.badiucao.com" target="_blank">here</a> in support of his work.</p><p> </p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-29450906540532240102024-01-18T05:40:00.000-08:002024-01-18T05:40:32.904-08:00How To Solve War In Three Stages<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPP5NyrvWAxNgDaUDcJSQszO-INFG3fnUKW7wfz9y8Suh4wWeR04k5R9tUWamhiiVJaN3OYGrQSyXiNLREhIhFHuAFW-WUq_sOhPpeLZHbeyUHjMgbucKUrZD13rwPjavKP9sfeXwW4_18uYOTfmOn463lJ_IUHCqoyzw_suQAd_T52MCtIGLY_AiaAo/s1500/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%202%201-kopi%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPP5NyrvWAxNgDaUDcJSQszO-INFG3fnUKW7wfz9y8Suh4wWeR04k5R9tUWamhiiVJaN3OYGrQSyXiNLREhIhFHuAFW-WUq_sOhPpeLZHbeyUHjMgbucKUrZD13rwPjavKP9sfeXwW4_18uYOTfmOn463lJ_IUHCqoyzw_suQAd_T52MCtIGLY_AiaAo/s16000/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%202%201-kopi%202.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, detail from the satirical magazine <i>Klods-Hans</i>, September 30, 1905.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div><br /></div><br /><p></p><p>Five prime ministers are in the room with me as I write this. Three Swedish and two Norwegian of the kind to be precise.</p><p>Above is the final and printed first panel by Valdemar Andersen of a situation that in 1905 could have developed into a declaration of war between the two countries. It was formally solved at the meeting seen on the photo below and today any thought of how war could be on the table is unthinkable.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4fRwOTXI5XbYcyARii8Allf3GWD1OZGyQ67rmWx_pHIyBIZO1mWe5BQopWOkRoap6HU_BlfyXBzrKiNMx77q_MMOmggX9XAHD_hwJ0oLJgPrSFL1xPtV7zuqAGKziVEymVre4lVmX3EUia4OsaHwS5S_Umjlz4pcBbBpZ5OsHp_h_tcBloDFb8jj/s1500/De_svensk-norska_unionsfo%CC%88rhandlingarna_i_Karlstad,_1905_-_Nordiska_Museet_-_NMA.0034900.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1500" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4fRwOTXI5XbYcyARii8Allf3GWD1OZGyQ67rmWx_pHIyBIZO1mWe5BQopWOkRoap6HU_BlfyXBzrKiNMx77q_MMOmggX9XAHD_hwJ0oLJgPrSFL1xPtV7zuqAGKziVEymVre4lVmX3EUia4OsaHwS5S_Umjlz4pcBbBpZ5OsHp_h_tcBloDFb8jj/w640-h478/De_svensk-norska_unionsfo%CC%88rhandlingarna_i_Karlstad,_1905_-_Nordiska_Museet_-_NMA.0034900.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Swedish-Norwegian Union delegates in Karlstad, September 23, 1905. <br />Photo: Nordiska Museet.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Norway was negotiating its indepence from Sweden and the tension would have been palpable. Mostly from Swedish right wingers, but both countries had reinforced their mutual border. In Danish private letters at the time it is described how British warships - "those disgusting grey machines" - were gathering and waiting in Danish waters.</p><p>Valdemar Andersen has drawn the unique situation of the creation of bliss, of something that dissolved before it became reality. The tension without action. He worked from the formal photographs taken of the delegates, which are the very ones we too see today. This is the material from which he made the situation come alive. </p><p>As seen above the delegates were divided across the middle as in a proper battle. The Swedes to the left and the Norwegians to the right. The Swedes that Valdemar chose to include are Carl Staaff, who would go on to become prime minister that autumn, another eventual prime minister Hjalmar Hammarskjöld and the then Prime Minister Christian Lundeberg. </p><p>Valdemar's sympathies obviously lay with the Norwegians, so the Swedes are a little more difficult to detect than the Norwegians. He may have chosen Hammarskjöld from the photo for his darker hair and long straight nose to create some visual difference. The Swedes present were rather square headed. All of them wore Bismarck-inspired moustaches. They soon turn into predators with faces distorted to bare their teeth:</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIUynSlIYRffrYv2Ibql4beS2M-JZr8s_kbcxHjzGmO48R3NMpwDZfHjmULv-BJV_58_u1imiKyCJTYGzcDhbp8IioMjECpXvLUY26YpeE9Th3ocwfXKLkuMJ2OXe7ipQM7M1tavJ2HQELnXCvmSELU4wmUTdDcy8GmywxfS2xRqzrq-FZfN114aXLE8/s694/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%203.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="694" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIUynSlIYRffrYv2Ibql4beS2M-JZr8s_kbcxHjzGmO48R3NMpwDZfHjmULv-BJV_58_u1imiKyCJTYGzcDhbp8IioMjECpXvLUY26YpeE9Th3ocwfXKLkuMJ2OXe7ipQM7M1tavJ2HQELnXCvmSELU4wmUTdDcy8GmywxfS2xRqzrq-FZfN114aXLE8/s16000/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%203.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, detail from the satirical magazine <i>Klods-Hans</i>, September 30, 1905.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p>They all fight it out across the desk. The hands clutching the corners have circles for knuckles. Neither side refuse to give in. </p><p>However... to the right the Norwegian the Prime Minister Christian Michelsen is putting down the largest hand in the room, while Carl Berner, who was heading their delegation has pressed a finger so hard into the table that it bends from the pressure. Behind them are the later prime minister Jørgen Løvland and the fourth is most likely the politician Andreas Urbye thrown in for visual strength, </p><div style="text-align: left;">Ink was the only thick substance spilled from the day. The whole thing was a showdown and once done bottles soon take over from the ink as seen in the three panels shown together below<span style="font-family: Times, serif;">.</span> All hands are now open embracing their mutual sea of black coats. </div><p>Valdemar's cartoon was printed on the bottom of a page of the satirical magazine <i>Klods-Hans</i>. I have the original drawing on a wall and it took me a long time locating it in print. Within days the threat of war was already a thing that never was. </p><p>The title is a play on the name of the town in which it all took place: Three stages (stadier) of Karl (Charles) in Karlstad:</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUtma0Ru5yHBxlOTt80pdgQis3bpmkFrJn20RcHujfcX0i-qyfhi7T2y5WtNooRLosTBw8ZeVCa66L7K-rdqJ_Fmlzf-2p5m0FAe7nmgWzwxNpqVxRRQn8ILUllKP6J6wdPw8q1S0iM-c9gL5p8HpgNscAAzFubszBzshoEhSl4En_1wEG4UVABmT/s1000/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="712" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUtma0Ru5yHBxlOTt80pdgQis3bpmkFrJn20RcHujfcX0i-qyfhi7T2y5WtNooRLosTBw8ZeVCa66L7K-rdqJ_Fmlzf-2p5m0FAe7nmgWzwxNpqVxRRQn8ILUllKP6J6wdPw8q1S0iM-c9gL5p8HpgNscAAzFubszBzshoEhSl4En_1wEG4UVABmT/s16000/Batch%202%2001%204-kopi%202.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, the cartoon in its totality as printed in <i>Klods-Hans</i>, September 30, 1905.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-77618349818935931052024-01-14T05:01:00.000-08:002024-01-14T05:01:07.982-08:00NOOOOOOO!!!<p><br /></p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6piMAAjeoT31E4YzIUM-EhR9sliqf3wMMsfgFP0XZJCVDhxuPPFsli7oIeto-4ndib6MRyMmzMSdAoSzJHWWIiYSe2uD2FTctDeWDLLH5cdhySEtvMIUM_x7e0xEaV6QMK0oGp5NzDllqnMDdTX5Qgpe2s-IvPF3xfiohNjRnaUWXLkWmQd9qHUuM=s591" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="591" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6piMAAjeoT31E4YzIUM-EhR9sliqf3wMMsfgFP0XZJCVDhxuPPFsli7oIeto-4ndib6MRyMmzMSdAoSzJHWWIiYSe2uD2FTctDeWDLLH5cdhySEtvMIUM_x7e0xEaV6QMK0oGp5NzDllqnMDdTX5Qgpe2s-IvPF3xfiohNjRnaUWXLkWmQd9qHUuM=w640-h436" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars Andersen, August 9, 2017:<br />Artist Bjørn Nørgaard putting the finishing touches to the double sarcophagus ordered by<br />Queen Margrethe and her prince consort:<br />"It is from the Castle. They wish to change it into a single".</td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><p>It is transition day on the Danish throne.</p><p>It is very possibly the last day being the favourite artist to the crown for Bjørn Nørgaard too.</p><p>Being a favourite artist to anyone in power has now as before been the chance of creating large scale artworks to be preserved through the ages. At times the artist even creates the very buildings to contain them. Still, it is a precarious position.</p><p>A specialty of cartooning is creating not just that one piece of art, but all parties arguing about it. It is placed in its proces of creation, the rounding of those fingertips working the ultrafine needle, the extension cord and the sketches strewn all about. To this is added the easiness of sending a text neglecting the undoing of the artist and consequently the moment his work loses all reason to exist.</p><p>Lars Andersen could make an album on the existential crisis of Bjørn Nørgaard, through whom Lars mirrors the power play at court such as a prince regent throwing tantrums wanting to do his own thing at every major occasion. He so wanted to be king.</p><p>Queen Margrethe has been a keen friend of cartooning, as was her father before her. So far her successor has shown no interest the art form. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7hMjqSii88aBXE-_kdy141kxPIR3NYZEANKDxFhrVk1aFCojfzgMFgXLgQ8g-FDjYW-0CFB9x1Gx0hC3GczI4u7zxBbUv86C8RPLXHbsqaPxGqveCeWSeAvV0-FLdEJZR9VcPJDRJKQFeHgnurntrUfZEv9Zx7Xj-NHg5PCINDIYXZto2weyCFDSO=s827" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="827" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7hMjqSii88aBXE-_kdy141kxPIR3NYZEANKDxFhrVk1aFCojfzgMFgXLgQ8g-FDjYW-0CFB9x1Gx0hC3GczI4u7zxBbUv86C8RPLXHbsqaPxGqveCeWSeAvV0-FLdEJZR9VcPJDRJKQFeHgnurntrUfZEv9Zx7Xj-NHg5PCINDIYXZto2weyCFDSO=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars Andersen, November 6, 2016:<br />In 2017 the Queen and prince consort could have celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. <br />"By the way, have you seen that they are cancelling?"</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><br /><p>The cartoons shown are courtesy of Lars Andersen and must not be reproduced.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-82002166497421494182022-10-11T03:57:00.000-07:002022-10-11T03:57:50.962-07:00On What Cartooning Is Not<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1PxAxzRn2VEJix_K45px1ehR4aR9jeCRe87f4mXnIwHpvLyAUgGLWJY9wm6Ix2wDnVjsm2lGLpyEK0FLFrJDNS_Uv1ayT9sydl0g5Aqb6PbrLnm5fxZpQvjSJq6gUMfQco3gCY2t3hE/s1600/IMG_7125-kopi.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="603" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1PxAxzRn2VEJix_K45px1ehR4aR9jeCRe87f4mXnIwHpvLyAUgGLWJY9wm6Ix2wDnVjsm2lGLpyEK0FLFrJDNS_Uv1ayT9sydl0g5Aqb6PbrLnm5fxZpQvjSJq6gUMfQco3gCY2t3hE/s1600/IMG_7125-kopi.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Niels Hansen Jacobsen, <i>Troll that smells Christian Blood</i>, 1895/96, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. <br />Photo: LCL. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
</div>
<div><div><br /></div><div>Despots on the receiving end of the cartoonist's pen will lament the pure malice of their line. Cartooning is an angry art form in which the cartoonists use their art to instill anger in the rest of us, they will insist. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><div>Let us step back for a moment to the tiny strip of a garden behind the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen. Just a few steps long and wide, you find yourself taking in a deep breath of calm. </div><div><br /></div><div>In between the greenery are sculptures of little more than a century old yet dreaming of Antiquity and mythological life and the most insistent among them is <i>Trold der vejrer kristenblod</i> (i.e. Troll that smells Christian blood) by Niels Hansen Jacobsen (1861-1941) from 1895/96.<br /><br /></div></div><div><div><br /></div><div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "times roman";"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY_7oPFZtoy6xHAazpHgCMhpPOyFqgCMy31lioCRzYXiJX6MqLCORap-P7GpjQcvo7cnauecL6jkkQ7z-u-3THvpffwuCajzuKwghLDhU7Z8U7xM6BbOVjS1U9wRsHmT-DDXR21whWg4/s1600/IMG_E6979-kopi.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="803" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY_7oPFZtoy6xHAazpHgCMhpPOyFqgCMy31lioCRzYXiJX6MqLCORap-P7GpjQcvo7cnauecL6jkkQ7z-u-3THvpffwuCajzuKwghLDhU7Z8U7xM6BbOVjS1U9wRsHmT-DDXR21whWg4/s640/IMG_E6979-kopi.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption"><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: center;">Niels Hansen Jacobsen, </span><i style="font-family: -webkit-standard; text-align: center;">Troll that smells Christian Blood</i><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: center;">, 1895/96, </span><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: center;">Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek</span><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: center;">. </span><br style="font-family: -webkit-standard; text-align: center;" /><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: center;">Photo: LCL. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><br /></div><div><div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;">In the pre-pandemic times Zapiro was here with his family and we were met by the troll, when crossing the little garden. Every line of the troll is tweaked and turned and exaggerated to embody cruelty and violence of the most absolute kind in his quest to seek out and destroy. His bronze is movement. He is a play on everything a sculpture is not. He is too much to a degree that children laugh with him. </div><div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard;">A</span><span style="font-family: times;">t the mere glimpse of him Zapiro, however, reacted with such pain that we hurried on while trying to pretend that the sculpture was not there.</span></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">It was a beautiful moment in spite of his pain. It highlighted the outlook of the cartoonist as one of analysis, understanding and empathy. It is not pure anger sputtered onto paper or screen. The truth of the cartoon lies in its reflection and intelligence.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">That could however lead us to the opposite accusation: the toothlessness of cartooning especially when it comes to making artistic leaps and experiments. Artistically a cartoon could never be anything like the troll, immersing itself in a larger than life existence, breaking with the resistance of the bronze?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span face="-webkit-standard" style="font-family: times;"><div>Well... About the time that Hansen Jacobsen created his troll, Valdemar Andersen drew the cover of a collection of short stories with the title of <i>Røverhistorier </i>- a pun on burglars and tall tales alike - in which the cover story is one of burglars being taken captive. Everything is movement on the picture plane. We see every line of the pencil, making the dark areas as dark as the pencil possibly could while the faces and shadows of the burglars are all vertical screaming lines and bulging eyes. </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div>The darkest figure of them all is the hero of the story. This is us, his beholders. We happen to be drawn in a literal sense into the scene with the huge back capturing the whole row of burglars with one forceful move. Valdemar Andersen thus turned around the scary into expectation and excitement. It is playful and all the more so in that we can follow his pencil lines creating everything into movement.</div></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU7g4Ne0kGJnWV0r8HT5clnxQkl8fYd8KbE4xgjyF8_1d41-jBhUO4NewUzrOhITzz6LiucfilvY9cC0moHKwYRIB4PFzzhI5VwdZh4sngygJxG9usGsagJgUZ9t1KN1phmiu2GBEAM3cPBXDs-2nqbBKWxmt9a2r2d-vnMr9M2LMgpSKkdfXvxTDt=s1003" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="767" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU7g4Ne0kGJnWV0r8HT5clnxQkl8fYd8KbE4xgjyF8_1d41-jBhUO4NewUzrOhITzz6LiucfilvY9cC0moHKwYRIB4PFzzhI5VwdZh4sngygJxG9usGsagJgUZ9t1KN1phmiu2GBEAM3cPBXDs-2nqbBKWxmt9a2r2d-vnMr9M2LMgpSKkdfXvxTDt=w490-h640" width="490" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, original drawing for the cover of St.St. Blicher, <br /><i>Røverhistorier</i> (i.e. Tall Tales), ca. 1905, The Royal Library, Copenhagen. <br />Photo: Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;">To return to the initial allegation laid against cartooning there would be no agency if the cartoonist claimed someone to be evil. Someone acting with malice on the other hand is basically weakness, one of our all too recognisable failings as humans. By addressing our mutual failings, the cartoonist creates a building ground for understanding, making change possible. Otherwise the cartoonist may as well go home and put down the pen.</div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">On that day in the garden of the <span style="font-family: -webkit-standard;">Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, </span>we tiptoed away...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard"><br /></span></div><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span><br />
<br /><br /><br />
<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvAC8KUV4Pk3D8901nL3oHDz5GarU2efFigS24jjPKNHjJH7uUQgkfuA6HwdJ_QXkeOhiNQ4Txtpaj7RqtTV_968pCzky5jc5haCqRXT5htmJJqcd4BdGpacCoDP7i5Lp-PUp3VsODPI/s1600/IMG_E6990-kopi.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="803" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvAC8KUV4Pk3D8901nL3oHDz5GarU2efFigS24jjPKNHjJH7uUQgkfuA6HwdJ_QXkeOhiNQ4Txtpaj7RqtTV_968pCzky5jc5haCqRXT5htmJJqcd4BdGpacCoDP7i5Lp-PUp3VsODPI/s640/IMG_E6990-kopi.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Niels Hansen Jacobsen, <i>Troll that smells Christian Blood</i>, 1895/96, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. <br />Photo: LCL. </td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div></div></div></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-1085843405977438162022-10-11T00:57:00.000-07:002022-10-11T00:57:25.116-07:00On the International Day of the Girl Child<p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqB0k5PAvjb-J6Nt6v2yc5Nxue7max9viBX7GBg5Zi8T0Wvmj2iuqHIK5dTpfVw9L17yVYJkdqgpRox3uq49uGt3a1gMIGb_sKJaUsRVjcro1jalUeAneOWlQROWxx-1OFtYwRLAb_lz1puyS6mcKTHrVajRZDg7kP1PJUYQJZFgLnRkBvs0qxoWP/s515/23031148_10214120742953459_8042453630981343160_n-kopi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="446" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqB0k5PAvjb-J6Nt6v2yc5Nxue7max9viBX7GBg5Zi8T0Wvmj2iuqHIK5dTpfVw9L17yVYJkdqgpRox3uq49uGt3a1gMIGb_sKJaUsRVjcro1jalUeAneOWlQROWxx-1OFtYwRLAb_lz1puyS6mcKTHrVajRZDg7kP1PJUYQJZFgLnRkBvs0qxoWP/w554-h640/23031148_10214120742953459_8042453630981343160_n-kopi.jpg" width="554" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cintia Bolio, <i>#Girls, NOT Mothers</i>, 2017.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>On the <i>International Day of the Girl Child</i>, Cintia Bolio's cartoon above points to a specific dilemma, but one that exemplifies the precarious lives of girls across the globe.</p><p>Girls should be empowered. They should be on the receiving end of education and safe formative years, and never be the wastebaskets of all that is corrupt in a society. Everybody loses when we lose our girls.</p><p>As a special edition of the Day of the Dead this one comes with a warning. When have we ever seen the Grim Reaper objecting to doing his job because the task at hand goes against his conscience? </p><p><br /></p><p>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Cintia Bolio and must not be reproduced without her permission.</p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-13661928853219874802022-03-30T02:46:00.000-07:002022-03-30T02:46:31.766-07:00The Captain's Heart<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsbWBuSI_qtXuGIEWv_NlrcnVMA2QNiVpOaMVFd_ta1Tbk-0NYW98QEHNI0eQI2Jb_AQm99TLezVYHXrL5I7lx3J0wach0invP2P0vND7CVzLuOdFkhTy09xlcv_1lbP1Z9r7SMWOIZLk33WOMAqaLGsTngYnw1MFuNN1CLBPCPBM9PAqA8z7zvg1/s1003/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_01-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="1003" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsbWBuSI_qtXuGIEWv_NlrcnVMA2QNiVpOaMVFd_ta1Tbk-0NYW98QEHNI0eQI2Jb_AQm99TLezVYHXrL5I7lx3J0wach0invP2P0vND7CVzLuOdFkhTy09xlcv_1lbP1Z9r7SMWOIZLk33WOMAqaLGsTngYnw1MFuNN1CLBPCPBM9PAqA8z7zvg1/w640-h362/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_01-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">How do we define a life that remained silent and lived out their life in an environment and in circumstances we have never known?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpHTNCuVIrQZuuip8NfHTKVSGKUanO0dl2m6fnStzSMwUxl6-OqokrY_jf-AisLRIvF8k42SgIxkVsUhS9GIETqz6_Me0ZrsfHlUVs669soMe7HA2W73M00MzMp0V7lHwHcpiig0li9wldh1SVTwkQe1wapP4-FBSyaUG-vHxLSGzuNQEwjKhr-O5o/s1003/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_11-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="1003" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpHTNCuVIrQZuuip8NfHTKVSGKUanO0dl2m6fnStzSMwUxl6-OqokrY_jf-AisLRIvF8k42SgIxkVsUhS9GIETqz6_Me0ZrsfHlUVs669soMe7HA2W73M00MzMp0V7lHwHcpiig0li9wldh1SVTwkQe1wapP4-FBSyaUG-vHxLSGzuNQEwjKhr-O5o/w640-h360/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_11-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The documentary <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart) by Simon Bang is an exploration into that very question featuring Simon's maternal grandfather, Knud Goth, and the great love of Goth's life, the cargo ship - and one cargo ship in particular - with which he traversed the world seas from when he was a minor to the day he retired. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Goth was the patriarch incarnate. Leaving his family for years at a time or summoning them to stay aboard with him, the bridge of the ship was his outlook to the world. The ship was his responsibility as well as his powerhouse. And it was his alone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a life of two world wars, having his ship wrecked by mines and submarines, an Allied bombardment while at dock, Castro taking over Cuba, and an Anarchist act of terror in San Francisco. All of which he narrowly escaped physically unharmed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At one point Goth was shipping iron ore from Sweden to the Nazi war machine - following the instructions of his shipping company and in accordance the official policy of the occupied Denmark. While doing so he took German Jews fleeing the horrors with him on his return journey to Sweden. The extremes of life within the very same journey. Goth never spoke of assisting refugees. Aiding the war machine, however, remained a sting with him that his actions would be deemed morally reprehensible. No accolades came his way after the war.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Within his silence was still the pain of the silence too from the world around him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxwVkQtSv3ygTY2fNTECAIPtzG9OWrUhne4jiU89N9uJU-eVPun8jpSWMaK6v8VxRZzFr7HpuRzqepkQhncoVvku0usj8aDc7IOl8V2MmRrIXss3vIOe17wRYxkTbyDYTZAKSI37HuyaS2MxvnYnhzi1Wyoed5tycjI8kFvZ5kBupqmnQjizxNINe/s1003/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_04-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="1003" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxwVkQtSv3ygTY2fNTECAIPtzG9OWrUhne4jiU89N9uJU-eVPun8jpSWMaK6v8VxRZzFr7HpuRzqepkQhncoVvku0usj8aDc7IOl8V2MmRrIXss3vIOe17wRYxkTbyDYTZAKSI37HuyaS2MxvnYnhzi1Wyoed5tycjI8kFvZ5kBupqmnQjizxNINe/w640-h360/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_04-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Simon Bang has meticulously pieced every remnant together that was left from his grandfather. A trunk with a set of keys to a ship long gone, a log book and papers on sail routes, newspaper cuttings, letters from a German Jew whose life he saved and his wife at home begging him to be at least a mental presence in her and their children's lives and interviews with his two surviving children and former crew members on his beloved ship. </p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Simon is visually laying fact by fact before us through the surviving papers and items from which drama upon drama unfold themselves. Almost all of them unknown till now in that Goth never talked of them. The terror bombing? The air raid, which he narrowly escaped? It is a mosaic taking shape before us from the sources Simon has dug out. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Simon is an artist of profession and he created his first exhibition at about the age his grandfather had been when he first went to sea. Simon has recently returned to painting after having been a storyboarder for many decades. The pen has been his tool all his life, just as he knows every element worth knowing of how to tell a drama through scenes and sequences. Still, at no point - and it is one of the most fundamental of premises for his documentary - does he makes guesses or even hints at what his grandfather may have felt.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Instead he anchors - sorry for the pun! - his documentary with two key features. Firstly he has made his own drawing desk the center of his film. This is his professionalism, the bridge of his own ship. In one key scene his charcoal breaks which takes on the role of metal splinters spiraling everywhere in the scene that follows. His desk is first and last the dramatic story point around which the windows, a set of doors and the ceiling too become screens for the sea, wind and the machines of war.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgacz1pzRkL9glTku43kzzdnsHMupAvjiN-hjyrhpT5rdKESZgDhQtwGdIBth6FjkrcPdivdZdXJ6hi8CHMxPQ-8xS65fn8kMTbb6XuVzuwHv5qIulxAXKEbeOKzv2T9d1Wpg_77fEiXs95hUKBCsEYT10kQIau7840BTUfVoJhMbfG_024Ed1kLd0Y/s1003/Sk%C3%A6rmbillede%202022-03-27%20kl.%2023.41.54-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="1003" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgacz1pzRkL9glTku43kzzdnsHMupAvjiN-hjyrhpT5rdKESZgDhQtwGdIBth6FjkrcPdivdZdXJ6hi8CHMxPQ-8xS65fn8kMTbb6XuVzuwHv5qIulxAXKEbeOKzv2T9d1Wpg_77fEiXs95hUKBCsEYT10kQIau7840BTUfVoJhMbfG_024Ed1kLd0Y/w640-h360/Sk%C3%A6rmbillede%202022-03-27%20kl.%2023.41.54-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Secondly Simon lets the drama of his grandfather come to life through animation of dramatic reenactments of that which had no visuals after the fact. However, his grandfather is never drawn. The little boy we meet at the opening of the film running through postcards of the time of the town where Goth was born to the mature man at sea has Simon's own likeness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is a contract with his beholders that he accentuates at the opening of each scene by turning his head towards us so that we know this is Simon and never Goth. Goth's silence is respected. There is no abuse of his person. The one who is present and vulnerable before us is Simon himself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv71EzhWe96NcJptPoWphsvy_y1W88HbtOmW7c6dTV1LNP5jFCaPYZtP9PlAWyDUKLboLXd6MKCF5laceEJj_-w3Jtce8--IyY31gv1C9wSqSP5KrIOEvP8zfPW5ZnEiGmf8Ld22gPRUPwD3UahFjPazD7Dlp9y2B75syoBhVQ-UWZxzdnWqcEreE7/s1005/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_03-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="1005" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv71EzhWe96NcJptPoWphsvy_y1W88HbtOmW7c6dTV1LNP5jFCaPYZtP9PlAWyDUKLboLXd6MKCF5laceEJj_-w3Jtce8--IyY31gv1C9wSqSP5KrIOEvP8zfPW5ZnEiGmf8Ld22gPRUPwD3UahFjPazD7Dlp9y2B75syoBhVQ-UWZxzdnWqcEreE7/w640-h362/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_03-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Goth survived the role that he carved for himself in life. The world around him outgrew him. His ship was old-fashioned, new and other ways of shipping cargo had been implemented, and not least was the crew to be quartered with him. He was no longer the main character aboard. </div><div><br /></div><div>Nor was there any life for him at home. He had lost his wife and if is a painful scene worth of Edvard Munch of the shadow that never leaves us humans. Now it is falling on her in her last repose. His eyes too are lying in shadow from his service cap. The shadow caught up with him in all aspects of his life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Still the documentary stays unsentimental in seeing the patriarch unravel. There is no exoneration, no excuses, nor is there any condemnation. Yet we understand his pain. We have been taking part in the adventures of his life and it is deeply moving seeing his journey come to an end.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdKbIWptDaHAfrENEPTT9alBXNp4tUn2kwPZmueAHALGI07sglKJNWssndhSP8TXdiurbhJCqTOV6gPyDIjlbIeVrFCAYOV1gZKqNVbFONjeYPt7aXs59F3mmJmxp9aaClVueRk4kjxTHtwyE_K2A80m6koZQZG1MPGqZSx6u2gjfLfR48vuKYflJ/s1003/Sk%C3%A6rmbillede%202022-03-27%20kl.%2023.41.27-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="1003" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdKbIWptDaHAfrENEPTT9alBXNp4tUn2kwPZmueAHALGI07sglKJNWssndhSP8TXdiurbhJCqTOV6gPyDIjlbIeVrFCAYOV1gZKqNVbFONjeYPt7aXs59F3mmJmxp9aaClVueRk4kjxTHtwyE_K2A80m6koZQZG1MPGqZSx6u2gjfLfR48vuKYflJ/w640-h360/Sk%C3%A6rmbillede%202022-03-27%20kl.%2023.41.27-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p><i>The Captain's Heart</i> is a beautiful, playful and elegantly meticulous documentary worth seeing even scene by scene for its play with original footage of postcards and stumps of movies of the time, onto which the drama of one life is mirrored through animation. A life at once so extraordinary and a piece of world history within one person while a song too on the extraordinariness of every human life. We are all a piece of world history.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWJcXAFRygCBqas07rADTzKCqRCRJRlbeHtoNEiMxHEN4QMlI_7yRQx0btss4mscgpYKZ7YPHnGpU0c2eLCtBCemmSjnNEyS6bksEA4p21A4VjXsqsABwl4rYi1KROX24CC7F6eTNZF6gUYdskJ-AtWsvUdThAG0XX7d8MFJhoh3w77Qp4vI-1aQB/s1003/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_12-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="1003" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWJcXAFRygCBqas07rADTzKCqRCRJRlbeHtoNEiMxHEN4QMlI_7yRQx0btss4mscgpYKZ7YPHnGpU0c2eLCtBCemmSjnNEyS6bksEA4p21A4VjXsqsABwl4rYi1KROX24CC7F6eTNZF6gUYdskJ-AtWsvUdThAG0XX7d8MFJhoh3w77Qp4vI-1aQB/w640-h360/Kaptajnens%20Hjerte_Pressebilled22_12-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen dump from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> (i.e. The Captain's Heart). © Simon Bang.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The screen dumps from <i>Kaptajnens Hjerte</i> are courtesy of Simon Bang and must not be reproduced without his permission.</p><p><br /></p></div></div><br /><br />Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-1574705852613122352022-03-16T07:53:00.004-07:002022-03-17T00:38:31.076-07:00Badiucao Is On Fire<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG0X_QwtKdy-n08TJeEp8msaraJdwXb0EoLfRvJsJ4ylUMDwMZLgqQjErXb0spk1JlGDDPBE33xuqWpXo5aN-lRl6NyK2MG2Njf1JlOBCWO4AMcnQBR9F9o-qi0JRkHy-9vZ0UbG-xi9vUdlBN6oMkgAiruoQM_JjKFUKVzvY55fz9gSTaoHVy-zzg=s2000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="2000" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG0X_QwtKdy-n08TJeEp8msaraJdwXb0EoLfRvJsJ4ylUMDwMZLgqQjErXb0spk1JlGDDPBE33xuqWpXo5aN-lRl6NyK2MG2Njf1JlOBCWO4AMcnQBR9F9o-qi0JRkHy-9vZ0UbG-xi9vUdlBN6oMkgAiruoQM_JjKFUKVzvY55fz9gSTaoHVy-zzg=w640-h454" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Badiucao, <i>On Fire</i>, March 10, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Badiucao is on fire. He is scouring the imagery coming out from Ukraine while analysing the reactions on the Russian invasion across continents. He is our eyes and ears and ultimately he cannot have had much sleep the past weeks.<div><br /></div><div>Suddenly the connection was there for THAT cartoon.</div><div><br /></div><div>The photos of any bottle turning into a Molotov cocktail, calling out to everyone in Ukraine to help prepare them for the resistance. The sunflower as the symbol of Ukraine and flowers need water for their nourishment.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Together the two form a symbol of stamina, resourcefulness, and the moral right to freedom. </div><div><br /></div><div>They are hardly there as light as they are in their delicate and translucent vertical line and mirrored shadow. Yet they have so much presence. This particular flower is one of the sunflowers of Van Gogh, beyond its peak and now withering, but seen on its own it becomes the personification of the insistence of life. The two of them in unison are on fire.</div><div><br /></div><div>Badiucao has created an image on the dignity of life beyond the present in his own words:</div><div><br /></div><div>"One Day. We Will Only Have Flowers In Our Bottle".</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Badiucao and must not be shown without acknowledging his name.</div><div><p><br /></p></div></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-48188778556405975302022-03-15T12:58:00.001-07:002022-03-15T12:58:47.954-07:00Let It Be Seen<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilstNnBHppfeW5VOrh-WcQcAEcpkA1vBTmky39W8TLhnEOtLElwJMuprKz8oKFK4-IGF5D5LXtlkwuraaa6zRrivlX9tED0-Gb2fD5079lfLVejfl9m9HrpHbRdHnnVgEedzFwjxKDxfhkZkw3GoI1CWrkAJw7NRStQPSmMWb-_Dbgkt-eGER-uLk4=s792" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="792" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilstNnBHppfeW5VOrh-WcQcAEcpkA1vBTmky39W8TLhnEOtLElwJMuprKz8oKFK4-IGF5D5LXtlkwuraaa6zRrivlX9tED0-Gb2fD5079lfLVejfl9m9HrpHbRdHnnVgEedzFwjxKDxfhkZkw3GoI1CWrkAJw7NRStQPSmMWb-_Dbgkt-eGER-uLk4=w640-h494" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khalid Albaih, March 14, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>At the core of cartooning is the exposure what is otherwise not visual in character or not visually available, i.e. it is taking place were no one gets to document it.</p><p>81 humans were beheaded in a mass execution in one day on Saturday in Saudi Arabia. 81 are a show off of power.</p><p>My own country can attest to what that signifies. 80 were beheaded in Stockholm in 1520. It is half a millennium ago and it is an act of disgrace to this day. </p><p>Oh, and Mohammed bin Salman: The Danish king lost his Swedish crown and soon after his Danish one too as a result of this.</p><p>Khalid Albaih lets the act be documented on the green of the Saudi flag and carried out with the flag's ceremonial sabre. This is the deed by which the Saudi state has chosen to define itself. The bloodied headless neck confronts the world. "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time", as Maya Angelou affirmed.</p><p><br /></p><p>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Khalid Albaih and must not be shown without acknowledging his name.</p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-20064179030363325992022-03-06T12:18:00.002-08:002022-03-09T03:16:41.030-08:00The War Criminal<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSbFk6UQVmMCxVAYXavy_FvvgQP_15hXrUX1d9YVM2E4tEqbtXcjUunxZur3gJnyOrWypRnqpb7AjaiQAus495f-ZOOXPu97z2k1gZ0j0OOrZrDJ9ibaF3jycc7rGJrvTRkbCxXBaTIM2K0aTiP5Whdu_X0UGset3FEC-dfdbOKeqKAa4CCr3top6E=s960" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="960" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSbFk6UQVmMCxVAYXavy_FvvgQP_15hXrUX1d9YVM2E4tEqbtXcjUunxZur3gJnyOrWypRnqpb7AjaiQAus495f-ZOOXPu97z2k1gZ0j0OOrZrDJ9ibaF3jycc7rGJrvTRkbCxXBaTIM2K0aTiP5Whdu_X0UGset3FEC-dfdbOKeqKAa4CCr3top6E=w640-h574" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marilena Nardi, #PutinIsAWarCriminal, March 5, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br />When a major incident takes place on cartoonists are at once hesitant and are impatient to react immediately. They wish to prove the relevance of their art, but the first cartoons produced will still be tentative while their cartoonists are absorbing as much information possible of the reasons for the parties involved, the developments and their implications. </p><p>At a certain point a change enters the scene. The cartoons gain a maturity in which their cartoonists dare to make those bold strokes that characterise a situation beyond itself. This is where cartooning demonstrate that it is indeed an art form.</p><p>The present cartoon of Marilena Nardi is a case in point. A political cartoon which contains every layer of a situation from the why to the what. Future generations will know and understand everything about the Russian war on Ukraine by this one cartoon.</p><p>It is a composition on the immobility of mind of the war criminal by way of the movement for which he is responsible. From the onslaught across the picture plane, the modulations of the Putinian body from his unseen desk to the missile strike on the Ukrainians within his boots. In the bloodied Ukraine underneath only a few humans are left to be seen; their contours drawn in the red of their blood.</p><p>The delicate Ukrainian colours have the air of a stained glass window with the human outcry from being punished by the wrath of a higher being. </p><p>The latter one, however, is nothing but a stubborn limited mind turning the soles of his boots to the rest of the world.</p><p><br /></p><p>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Marilena Nardi and must not be reproduced without acknowledging her name.</p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-24659546869454814362022-03-01T12:43:00.001-08:002022-03-01T12:43:34.129-08:00Dictatorship<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZHpmOCnSqFbMywabh8bg7H2rxSl1BMelEOlAmWX1LHdvVCidnt0XCTTBRYyBGSPCc2-CE_i_4JeAMWoaWIihOdmfWU8zwWvM58k3CrBCzTaWbXfzhY4Y8syHd0ziq2--hXpaxK3n4avtxOhk5mmuvVQWYJupVfr67buB5sUiVLxDiUmX-5rLlXLlx=s1003" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="836" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZHpmOCnSqFbMywabh8bg7H2rxSl1BMelEOlAmWX1LHdvVCidnt0XCTTBRYyBGSPCc2-CE_i_4JeAMWoaWIihOdmfWU8zwWvM58k3CrBCzTaWbXfzhY4Y8syHd0ziq2--hXpaxK3n4avtxOhk5mmuvVQWYJupVfr67buB5sUiVLxDiUmX-5rLlXLlx=w534-h640" width="534" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iman Rezaee, <i>Dictatorship; Every Dictatorship will end, <br />but taking down a dictator often comes at at price</i>, November 24, 2021.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><br /></p><p>Iman Rezaee creates wide horizons with a light that is never bright, but dresses the scenery in a soft uniformity from which there seems to be no escape. Into this his pen specifies those who takes stronghold of it all, commanding that there must indeed be no freedom from their own outlook. </p><p>The two present cartoons juxtaposes the dictatorship of all times with the dictators of our day - or sadly, three of them - working in tandem at once enabling and keeping each other in check. </p>Ultimately their humanity shall fail them. Their human body takes them down, however extreme their denial of it. We are witnessing that final struggle right now from of one of the three, all the more lethal from his panic of nearing his end at power. <p></p><p>That panic is uncovered by the cartoonist and in the midst of the carnage from their egos, his signature is always to be found above their horizon line.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS0XaCHQpPyZ7t2BzpRMehpnR2l_2_m3uz0YPmOnw7EhX3tOeJCInHT9kUvPcq8-Ati4GGyroYDN3sNr4XqgioEuefRo76Lvk9Er8sDGcI1GFWD0gKEFhpeGRR5QPMN1YKk7QPB97HkeyiRzZ_Fr6uWhkeITq219eVbSU72bzt6ROdTlJw_89afjjf=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1462" data-original-width="2048" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS0XaCHQpPyZ7t2BzpRMehpnR2l_2_m3uz0YPmOnw7EhX3tOeJCInHT9kUvPcq8-Ati4GGyroYDN3sNr4XqgioEuefRo76Lvk9Er8sDGcI1GFWD0gKEFhpeGRR5QPMN1YKk7QPB97HkeyiRzZ_Fr6uWhkeITq219eVbSU72bzt6ROdTlJw_89afjjf=w640-h456" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iman Rezaee, <i>Iran, Russia & China</i>, January 29, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The cartoons shown are courtesy of Iman Rezaee and must not be reproduced without his permission.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br />Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-73119250898078822552022-02-27T12:07:00.001-08:002022-02-27T23:45:11.680-08:00The Sunflower<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0DrvkTSpS6H0keREhYL8hQeWvn7R99lB38hH8N-rr20LzpRjjcsJj19ykqdVNp5UrJsPv6p3WEkFeMU2Dn12K3clLphWG6hl-OR6yIA201TK73abyXKBfCUJI9CrOAuBcIUyjdEbBPO01AF9XV9IQ_NQ1CBS6e3NDVz6ObltV_O2iooa8xeTCvlXO=s2048" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0DrvkTSpS6H0keREhYL8hQeWvn7R99lB38hH8N-rr20LzpRjjcsJj19ykqdVNp5UrJsPv6p3WEkFeMU2Dn12K3clLphWG6hl-OR6yIA201TK73abyXKBfCUJI9CrOAuBcIUyjdEbBPO01AF9XV9IQ_NQ1CBS6e3NDVz6ObltV_O2iooa8xeTCvlXO=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marilena Nardi, <i>In Solidarity With The Ukrainian People</i>, February 27, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p>"Put sunflower seeds in your pocket so they grow when you die".</p><p>The words spoken by an elderly woman to a Russian soldier on the first day of the Russian war on Ukraine went viral on the spot. </p><p>I have been very keen to see how it would be interpreted in cartoons. It is not a sentence, which should be drawn in any literal way. It is the right of the dead of war to be respected, whether they were the enemy or not when they were alive. This is the Geneva Conventions, which applies to cartooning as well.</p><p>Marilena Nardi has made a compelling cartoon on the power of life. The basic composition is still that of the one part growing from the demise of the other, but Marilena creates focus on the dynamic movement in the magic of the one against which even the Grim Reaper has no power. The latter is dressed in elements of a uniform, a boot and a bloodied trouser leg, but we are beyond any actual field of the fallen. </p><p>Of cartoons to come on the subject this will remain one of the most forceful.</p><p><br /></p><p>The cartoon shown courtesy of Marilena Nardi and must not be reproduced without acknowledging her name.</p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-52330369916038872982022-02-27T03:26:00.001-08:002022-02-27T03:26:51.648-08:00The Essence of Putin<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdUWJds1cN7o9PJgCrhrzCCounGcCobJMu2psrM14wR6HRevvLmMmOyvfaUSQF4ILn_QQs4TbrLRs_ly6M5Ttnsn3rqxch-07st2M1vSY2jR8uJdDzjXTIeGtRduAzlIw0jsQfoc77rZwircajEcMQtKK-M8OhLY-yn8Vm2bD5UAvfSdQDtFqK4H2g=s974" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="974" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdUWJds1cN7o9PJgCrhrzCCounGcCobJMu2psrM14wR6HRevvLmMmOyvfaUSQF4ILn_QQs4TbrLRs_ly6M5Ttnsn3rqxch-07st2M1vSY2jR8uJdDzjXTIeGtRduAzlIw0jsQfoc77rZwircajEcMQtKK-M8OhLY-yn8Vm2bD5UAvfSdQDtFqK4H2g=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Oleksiy Kustovsky, <i>The Essence of Putin</i>, February 18, 2015.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The past days cartoons on Chaplin as the dictator dancing with the globe have been everywhere. The Chaplin scene is a trope in cartooning, which is not an issue <i>per se</i>, but it needs to be given new layers. Otherwise it is just a tired cartoon. Besides wondering what Putin had in mind belonged to the days before his invasion of Ukraine.</p><p>Then again, the balancing act was of greater relevance to the world outside of Ukraine. For almost a decade now and in particular following the Russian invasion of Crimea in 2014 Oleksiy Kustovsky has been defining Putin's game. It may at first seem an easy one drawing Putin as a twisted ape playing with heavy artillery, but the monochromatic simplicity of the composition is compelling. It is as calm as his face is nothing but. </p><p>What happened this week was an affliction, which Putin could not suppress. Oleksiy Kustovsky lays before us how there is no rationale to his actions. The truth of his intrinsic nature is that he is all inflammation. He is basically the human equivalent of the hand grenade next to him.</p>Each cartoon by Oleksiy Kustovsky is a piece of art, which deserves to be seen as widely as possible.<div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwI98uXsiNGllLMG2hWcUmpXwi5eRQviZXvwpAe64OzUAVf09CtLZWSoqfxAhHQLy3dpdjy-oZzO2XjGul4dxbOtFAS24lwX1xaGUJhiUFes6s9mku5wHiDQ2cq9oaH4cXKqn2ExCslJuC6kmw4Wn5_kZL1IDSkfBaDwIMWq186oki9N6cqm3Gf2bi=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwI98uXsiNGllLMG2hWcUmpXwi5eRQviZXvwpAe64OzUAVf09CtLZWSoqfxAhHQLy3dpdjy-oZzO2XjGul4dxbOtFAS24lwX1xaGUJhiUFes6s9mku5wHiDQ2cq9oaH4cXKqn2ExCslJuC6kmw4Wn5_kZL1IDSkfBaDwIMWq186oki9N6cqm3Gf2bi=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oleksiy Kustovsky, <i>Gollum Putin</i>, May 30, 2016.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The cartoons shown are courtesy of Oleksiy Kustovsky and must not be reproduced without acknowledging his name.</p><p><br /></p></div></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-5340107777408023262022-02-26T05:31:00.001-08:002022-02-26T13:39:03.339-08:00Putin The Poseur<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP-p7Z18ZO46h37V0tYiIj-wkZmL5Gpi_zl50aS9l5oinT9fOG4mapPcLBKXQQsxhc6_VpkZxsIA72zY_ESFAOVAIPmRydl35JhvJOjZWlEM3PL3JB3sBDFk0kXiCwrr3zQneR24g4-4QpA2KH1L3C_aUGqeEcfcVDxpYsqMHleSJiV63PwxzpIK4C=s680" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="680" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP-p7Z18ZO46h37V0tYiIj-wkZmL5Gpi_zl50aS9l5oinT9fOG4mapPcLBKXQQsxhc6_VpkZxsIA72zY_ESFAOVAIPmRydl35JhvJOjZWlEM3PL3JB3sBDFk0kXiCwrr3zQneR24g4-4QpA2KH1L3C_aUGqeEcfcVDxpYsqMHleSJiV63PwxzpIK4C=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roar Hagen, <i>Ukraine freely after Ilya Repin</i>, February 25, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Putin never looks beyond his own body. His eyes stay within himself and Roar Hagen cites the grand art history on the ultimate horror of the father having murdered his own son. Ilya Repin painted the original scene in which Ivan the Terrible has killed his son in a fit of rage. The focus of the painting lies in the distress beyond all measures of the father; his eyes lit with the nightmare of his own action. </p><p>In Roar Hagen's scene there is no forgiveness from the dying son, personified by Putin's Ukrainian counterpart. His life has already been extinguished, while Putin is posing for his full frontal portrait. He is a poseur, a sham and Roar placing him in the frame of the grand history Putin so wishes to place himself into, exposes him to the full.</p><p>Oh, the black holes for eyes as if windows rimmed by soot in a bombed building...</p><p><br /></p><p>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Roar Hagen and must not be reproduced without acknowledging his name.</p><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-31724521548017401322022-02-25T12:15:00.001-08:002022-02-25T12:42:31.325-08:00The Conscience Of War<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi--8zoJ8JZua0Vciz52JI7294fa27Nm01xYdAvFyC_6H-J36eNiFJf8UmCGlk0_6X8v4UtO9sY04hlY4MX2N_x6VSjdDnIwnzJ620NM9BJVaeqpdMq4jrx9Gxb0obsV45y0LfvlCVRXWVIknn205NkzRML8jpIzwDRBzw1OBbMvKrg3ex_jbl2pVQe=s680" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="680" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi--8zoJ8JZua0Vciz52JI7294fa27Nm01xYdAvFyC_6H-J36eNiFJf8UmCGlk0_6X8v4UtO9sY04hlY4MX2N_x6VSjdDnIwnzJ620NM9BJVaeqpdMq4jrx9Gxb0obsV45y0LfvlCVRXWVIknn205NkzRML8jpIzwDRBzw1OBbMvKrg3ex_jbl2pVQe=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Badiucao, <i>#STOPWAR</i>, February 24, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cartoonists have the competence to react immediately upon a crime or catastrophe taking place giving it visual structure. They give presence to what is still unfathomable, making certain that is known what must not be overlooked or forgotten. They give us the means to breathe, to think beyond the exclamation marks of the moment, and ultimately the chance to react. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On Day One of the Russian war on Ukraine two cartoons in particular stood out. They happen to interact with to each other when seen together as if they were the challenge and the answer to each other. Furthermore they are both by cartoonists living in exile from endangering - and continuing to do so - their lives standing tall against dictatorship: Badiucao and Ahmed Falah. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We see the inclusion of well-known symbols such as the flag, the blood and tanks, which are here fused with the real persons on the line: Putin and his victim.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Badiucao incorporated the first photo taken of a bloodied face hours into the invasion with her flag and wounds. On the background of her national colours her eyes are penetrating us reaching for our conscience. She is all of Ukraine just as she is the embodiment of all that is lost in war. </div></div><p></p><div>To her direct challenge of acknowledging responsibility Ahmed Falah created the answer by way of<i> that </i>ageing neck with its sagging skin and thinning hair. His insistence of rising above mere humanity is all the more accentuated by his being so physically human. Putin does his utmost to remain out of reach, willfully rejecting all communication enclosed as he is within his own raptures. The latter is highlighted by the glowing red contour. The cartoon was first shown earlier in February.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Both cartoons fuse the question of conscience with the precision of life; two actual persons yesterday, the one the victim of the other. Once seen they stay with the inner eye.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Which cartoon ought to be shown first in this blog post? His refusal may seem all the stronger by following her plea. If so his guilt could be highlighted by being immediately followed by her. In the end it only felt right that she should be seen first. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8YNHm56E79YFzhY8mCDgnJJNsXLFUQiAm8QMwfWXxpVMVXQ2-Pm3U-W4-TRh5EoEuNIzxiVEp-vtTF9KYnGiKSFohXV7-ZXhRU-OkMRQ1Rgv9h1DhzQHeyvt7STPeJIpNrKcBsd9E92S8cfFg_o_JdgYJ-fjeB36lC5AlfDhFUrgPI6JFzxYJx9OY=s680" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="680" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8YNHm56E79YFzhY8mCDgnJJNsXLFUQiAm8QMwfWXxpVMVXQ2-Pm3U-W4-TRh5EoEuNIzxiVEp-vtTF9KYnGiKSFohXV7-ZXhRU-OkMRQ1Rgv9h1DhzQHeyvt7STPeJIpNrKcBsd9E92S8cfFg_o_JdgYJ-fjeB36lC5AlfDhFUrgPI6JFzxYJx9OY=w640-h510" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahmed Falah, <i>The Dictator Is Enjoying The Sound of War</i>, February 14, 2022.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><p></p><p><br /></p>The cartoons shown are courtesy of their cartoonists and must not be shown without acknowledging Badiucao and Ahmad Falah.<p></p><p><br /><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-64868256945075679902022-02-10T03:58:00.000-08:002022-02-10T03:58:02.330-08:00The Gentle Art Of Undressing A Friend<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGjPKntltv8xK7jQaG8rxk6g4p8fqx-Fjs1PGdlEBNNZyX9j-1Y8ibG8igP1z13YxEhxXla6iFeoA1mQQrfEFBmVOClfY7lTnlyJf9IHr-9_9erTHZ0DkwlSVprw8GThznV96w5qDTCegvqtyg8QfzmZmAEVbrfTtsKZ-f1j4qlHtNMwlK_iXLyzme=s1003" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="687" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGjPKntltv8xK7jQaG8rxk6g4p8fqx-Fjs1PGdlEBNNZyX9j-1Y8ibG8igP1z13YxEhxXla6iFeoA1mQQrfEFBmVOClfY7lTnlyJf9IHr-9_9erTHZ0DkwlSVprw8GThznV96w5qDTCegvqtyg8QfzmZmAEVbrfTtsKZ-f1j4qlHtNMwlK_iXLyzme=w438-h640" width="438" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen for the satirical magazine <i>Plat'Menagen</i>, 1908.<br />Photo: Niels C.B. Larsen.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>The cartoon above by Valdemar Andersen is an exhibit in how to stay friends while throwing the worst ridicule possible in the other person's way.<div><br /></div><div>Then again what is at first glimpse the trope of taking down the true artist with what could be seen as envy from a practitioner of an lesser art turns out to be so much more - as is usually the case.</div><div><br /></div><div>As a cartoonist Valdemar Andersen was not a humourist. His artistry was much too subtle. Still in the lightness of his line he fused the self-understanding of his sitter - the author and Nobel Laureate Johannes V. Jensen - with Jensen's at the time most recently published novel <i>Bræen</i> (The Glacier). The protagonist of the novel discovers how to make use of nature to his creation of civilisation. Fire not least; it is always the discovery of fire. </div><div><br /></div><div>Within one tiny sketch Valdemar has incorporated the evolution of man from the furry apes to the present day author as the culmination of all that has ever been achieved by humanity. He calmly lights his cigar with idle pinkies for full visual effect. The cigar is the only solid block of colour on the picture plane. </div><div><br /></div><div>His head and gaze is as always directed at a level above us. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is the most striking and precise cartoon ever made of Johannes V. Jensen. His self-understanding as the wonder of man, the mind-set and horizon of his authorship. It is all in here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Valdemar was morally obligated to make the cartoon. Cartoonist and author both operated within the new media of their day and Jensen in particular had been a major player in resetting its goals. If the author of <i>Bræen</i> was not to be found in the annual satirical magazine <i>Plat'Menagen</i> his self-esteem would have been severely shattered. He belonged to the pages defining the noise of 1908.</div><div><br /></div><div>Johannes V. Jensen's authorship is embedded in his day and parts of it must be approached with hesitation in a new century. But whatever the situation of his world-view, this cartoon is still at the top of its game.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-23837888663842994612022-02-02T10:26:00.004-08:002022-02-02T10:26:21.863-08:00On Ulysses' First Centenary <p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwbsTrDtZCXsxsswHPu81I-w0fQJC5TquKlsreRVylb-DxHRe-UnYBQ04gX6f-Qk25l8XvQlkX0M7425IrjMdnR3a6V9lxz-N_fll6TENHLjogpRgur0C0mjvFyNd1Vu0HLgjviMZizP9iTIh-CFQan4972YvWyXA3zUFxf5BSKrWu1lkQeutgxdwo=s1500" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1500" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwbsTrDtZCXsxsswHPu81I-w0fQJC5TquKlsreRVylb-DxHRe-UnYBQ04gX6f-Qk25l8XvQlkX0M7425IrjMdnR3a6V9lxz-N_fll6TENHLjogpRgur0C0mjvFyNd1Vu0HLgjviMZizP9iTIh-CFQan4972YvWyXA3zUFxf5BSKrWu1lkQeutgxdwo=w640-h442" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Per Marquard Otzen, date unknown, but closer to 2022 than 1922.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>On the centennary of a book let us take after its author's example.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>James Joyce in the sea of words. Tied up to experience freely, open to where art leads him. This is as close as we can get as readers to our first task: Let us in his image throw ourselves out into that very sea.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reading a novel is a difficult and complex art Virginia Woolf laid out in her essay <i>How Should One Read a Book?</i> - with the emphasis on the question mark that there are no given answers. As readers we must be able to capture not only with great responsiveness, but with the daring of our imagination if we are to take it all in what the novelist - the great artist - gives us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do not dictate the author; become his accomplice. For one, we no longer remember the context for which Per Marquard Otzen originally drew Joyce above. <i>Et alors</i>. The drawing alone creates an uncontrollable urge to throw ourselves out without fear of drowning. At best and worst alike we risk coming back as new humans.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let us therefore give the last word too to Virginia Woolf that when the Day of Judgment comes and the great conquerors and statesmen step forward to receive their reward - their laurels and their names engraved in eternal marble - "The Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy, when He sees us coming with our books under our arms:</div><div><br /></div><div>- Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading ".</div><br /><p></p></div><div><br /></div><div>The cartoon shown is courtesy of Per Marquard Otzen and must not be reproduced without his permission.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-72174125050164598042022-02-02T09:35:00.002-08:002022-02-03T10:42:02.649-08:00The Cartooning Backyard<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi83ONrSodMCfyg107Gddzl2-4luyzSglrx8TvWa6AKM5QzENtqbJNwd3tSl8jAUbJwy4yPOUsmpxO5qTh4rgqRT0eqC66fCKAIhCv76V7MJbn4LwfWWK0DHdH2WljyaCEO2koNaZbDWe8Wc7j5GCg_S-IBf535F_ZHN-QJi-iiKjyKsUIwxR0vPIck=s1003" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="1003" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi83ONrSodMCfyg107Gddzl2-4luyzSglrx8TvWa6AKM5QzENtqbJNwd3tSl8jAUbJwy4yPOUsmpxO5qTh4rgqRT0eqC66fCKAIhCv76V7MJbn4LwfWWK0DHdH2WljyaCEO2koNaZbDWe8Wc7j5GCg_S-IBf535F_ZHN-QJi-iiKjyKsUIwxR0vPIck=w640-h504" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, half-page cartoon for the satirical magazine <i>Plat'Menagen</i>, 1908.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>In August 1908 the Danish lithographers went on strike and were in turn met with a lockdown. Supporting the lithographers, the typographers on the dailies left their printing machines too. To secure a daily news outlet, journalists across the political spectrum of newspapers concocted a daily paper, <i>Pressen</i> (The Press), which was printed by the only ones left in the printing rooms: the book printers themselves.</p><p>The distribution, however, failed in that the women supposed to bring it out refused to do so. The postal service had to take over. Readers who even came to know of the paper's existence were probably of a limited number. </p><p>These are our known facts with the addendum that it was on all levels an enterprise that has not been attempted since.</p><p>By the end of 1908 the annual satirical magazine <i>Plat'Menagen</i> had to comment on this being its own world of printers, papers and presses. To give it visual presence Valdemar Andersen drew a mountain of papers that never made it out of book printer's yard.</p><p>The composition cuts the cartoon into two triangles with the joyous children and fighting animals distracting our attention from the tension running high in the background at the book printer's.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-kDmLQb8ttQStDsSDZEhU0b_GwjvN29RvwzmqMHSDAdcZ_NSWoJgtB3BUlb4f8EghT7eRqHPGMvaErzroN4abO8F3kLGPXU4vtTqU6ya_bJOZSKfyrVJDSOB-Wwt9z9tBZ6O88rzlBOy1dj_PF5wHX21MTWVt8rd9f3FYSS3zOLlw3mPSz5k3QrQB=s1003" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="1003" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-kDmLQb8ttQStDsSDZEhU0b_GwjvN29RvwzmqMHSDAdcZ_NSWoJgtB3BUlb4f8EghT7eRqHPGMvaErzroN4abO8F3kLGPXU4vtTqU6ya_bJOZSKfyrVJDSOB-Wwt9z9tBZ6O88rzlBOy1dj_PF5wHX21MTWVt8rd9f3FYSS3zOLlw3mPSz5k3QrQB=w640-h438" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, detail of the half-page cartoon for the satirical magazine <i>Plat'Menagen</i>, 1908.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Are we witnessing a verbal altercation about to turn into a physical one?</p><p>The one in the black cap must be Simon Bernsteen, but all four men are evidently portraits with their details of ink spots on the working coat and indoor slippers stepping outside in despair of the mess of the situation. The bald headed one to the left could be Hans Tegner. But did Bernsteen's printershop take part in printing <i>Pressen </i>and were there specific reasons for the altercation apart from the situation at large? Were the formal prints by Valdemar of his shop from the very same year <a href="https://cartooniana.blogspot.com/2021/11/valdemar-as-visiting-ghoul.html" target="_blank">such as this one</a> a positive advertisement as a result of it?</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkzYHj89gYPvUHNVQVh9nSje18lhbWt9JCEx1m95ad2YPvaNa9Bhn1_7Z6Pm2rUlir3TRMidtoCiMBeRRBTWygV8vFP8s8kujZdTXdq2mpmdmk4VMlZxE8U3Dc8_Q5GPs1GWrdmaxd0dl71b4ynfll5pwYcVGe6pK-OkfVcp-CVV1EwochC_UzJOEP=s805" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="556" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkzYHj89gYPvUHNVQVh9nSje18lhbWt9JCEx1m95ad2YPvaNa9Bhn1_7Z6Pm2rUlir3TRMidtoCiMBeRRBTWygV8vFP8s8kujZdTXdq2mpmdmk4VMlZxE8U3Dc8_Q5GPs1GWrdmaxd0dl71b4ynfll5pwYcVGe6pK-OkfVcp-CVV1EwochC_UzJOEP=w276-h400" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, <i>Plat'Menagen</i>, 1906.</td></tr></tbody></table><i>Pressen </i>had no affinity with the paper of the same name that was just as short-lived two years before, edited by and - in its entirety? - written by the author Johannes V. Jensen. He too had his portrait drawn by Valdemar when he had to give up the attempt.<p></p><p>Since <i>Pressen</i> anno 1906 was a one-man show, Valdemar drew Jensen as his own newspaper boy taking his product to the streets. His head is as always placed on the pedestal of a high collar with no eyes behind the glasses. The dots demarcate the metal bars of his spectacles. We are still not and shall never be <a href="https://cartooniana.blogspot.com/2021/02/with-hint-of-devils-hand.html" target="_blank">of his league</a>. </p><p>All in all the outcome made for sad stories, which the cartoonists recognised only too well. <i>Plat'Menagen</i> was just one such example; drawn, edited, and organized by themselves. <i>Pressen </i>No. 1 and 2 were fundamentally their own tale. </p><p></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-9351760957798337752022-01-20T07:30:00.002-08:002022-01-28T08:16:37.761-08:00#Beijing2022 #CrimesAgainstHumanity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Badiucao is proving that major international sports events and crimes against humanity share deep and dark roots. What is more, he is proving that they can and must be seen in conjunction.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The up-coming Olympics in Beijing is his case in point. The first of his five animations in collaboration with <i>Human Rights Watch</i> lets the Olympic flame highlight the crimes against humanity taking place in China. This is the reality of the Olympic spirit. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Badiucao uses monochrome layers that at once tell us of what China wishes to remain hidden and his uncovering them. A single strip of colour from the bleeding head midway accentuates the alarm that he is sounding. Let every wrongdoing be known. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Below are screenshots from the animation, which can be seen in full <a href="https://twitter.com/hrw/status/1483795976511004679" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/badiucao/status/1483782857223208960" target="_blank">here</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaXs1IUdJS6LVTn1jwEnbjDkbv1FloRyOx9lHyIT_3R-K7Ff39z-EXXrTulzagI6qHuCV9coZ5ooV-22ggjqUbTtGaLWT0JANFsVQe9B5k7ycfnqg1Y92IjPQS9EpNlZ37Y16aIoQKPmMXBQOwOnTOqH-pk64SS8CxSbu850UgwKGvL9vWy1hYpFKJ=s827" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="805" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaXs1IUdJS6LVTn1jwEnbjDkbv1FloRyOx9lHyIT_3R-K7Ff39z-EXXrTulzagI6qHuCV9coZ5ooV-22ggjqUbTtGaLWT0JANFsVQe9B5k7ycfnqg1Y92IjPQS9EpNlZ37Y16aIoQKPmMXBQOwOnTOqH-pk64SS8CxSbu850UgwKGvL9vWy1hYpFKJ=w622-h640" width="622" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYh0JxKQ5Wo1lDe6mD8SUblvTbWFqALQ-3TIyxvpSEcZyNQZPrnWE8PCOSdjqjUyRtJCWKCY_A6RPInLwngLW7x3jHTCfbyzcsFmrMBw3Msq8wlUVb276Wtb6fZXvMhuVzBv4F1J4-xRsaCSIsxD9ciRyw0pp3s-G0KaGQGeC7Gd8M3FVBZAUZZqaA=s885" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="834" data-original-width="885" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYh0JxKQ5Wo1lDe6mD8SUblvTbWFqALQ-3TIyxvpSEcZyNQZPrnWE8PCOSdjqjUyRtJCWKCY_A6RPInLwngLW7x3jHTCfbyzcsFmrMBw3Msq8wlUVb276Wtb6fZXvMhuVzBv4F1J4-xRsaCSIsxD9ciRyw0pp3s-G0KaGQGeC7Gd8M3FVBZAUZZqaA=w640-h604" width="640" /></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEBm43bEhpCj6nnSSbNb2fQYqj472TiVRiFF1gBoHP2rLVlpgVtUYYQzzICli99CGIMLYqSraICJu9eDg65xj774pk1R5XQzon3W1Hrrw0TABDM40_ZVoy8LBPtz_CE_ekwV1sQMC0mBYpBNcPTe9XRarL0qMRc32i9IUCPSZJMKdUY9lsm6BsbkdC=s874" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="874" height="594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEBm43bEhpCj6nnSSbNb2fQYqj472TiVRiFF1gBoHP2rLVlpgVtUYYQzzICli99CGIMLYqSraICJu9eDg65xj774pk1R5XQzon3W1Hrrw0TABDM40_ZVoy8LBPtz_CE_ekwV1sQMC0mBYpBNcPTe9XRarL0qMRc32i9IUCPSZJMKdUY9lsm6BsbkdC=w640-h594" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirMwIT3xvlVs9WGdw1xsC5rHpvxKTr98I8rUmYIT85tzTBMfv_M620lOjshWaAWcX-ZHVDsYTS_876vqU2wxj4wczIQPtaEZHsdGaGGk68yT_4ZtxqX4nQ_YbhLm4Kzo0LVrYEx7pM6iKNPdxFg4ck88LCAqJrUbQcgmEtNl6wSrhIJbTa6ZjoODtI=s888" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="888" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirMwIT3xvlVs9WGdw1xsC5rHpvxKTr98I8rUmYIT85tzTBMfv_M620lOjshWaAWcX-ZHVDsYTS_876vqU2wxj4wczIQPtaEZHsdGaGGk68yT_4ZtxqX4nQ_YbhLm4Kzo0LVrYEx7pM6iKNPdxFg4ck88LCAqJrUbQcgmEtNl6wSrhIJbTa6ZjoODtI=w640-h604" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjL032rAfS7Cmcd0vUMHBDqxWhr_QVo8jE-XjjeanszT-pv-ZVozXeY3CG6mct9xdeWTlD3jm9e7Q6oKkqmy917IHIJb4kEflExQNSasaGsZPQyXwxVcDidg7naHxyCAw9C19GD9FJHNCwfR4II9RonZJSs75GuKKzC7lmWOvaEuCB06dluGeOCFDJ=s896" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="896" height="594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjL032rAfS7Cmcd0vUMHBDqxWhr_QVo8jE-XjjeanszT-pv-ZVozXeY3CG6mct9xdeWTlD3jm9e7Q6oKkqmy917IHIJb4kEflExQNSasaGsZPQyXwxVcDidg7naHxyCAw9C19GD9FJHNCwfR4II9RonZJSs75GuKKzC7lmWOvaEuCB06dluGeOCFDJ=w640-h594" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQaMZ4SBN6qO56fDXx9HORx-8x6yomiXcQr7GwE_FHFyC0n6Hv12U7qYQIs0YXccj39KFIXCBSrBod4oqittcfRLLTKE4dAAhtUVjyGZ_bUN6e0fsEu7IPIwAqsODsILivOO6wI7Q6cfFMm5suXF4_aICoiFOMXTlHrahzILz6mElHGf32aIf6Cloj=s881" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="881" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQaMZ4SBN6qO56fDXx9HORx-8x6yomiXcQr7GwE_FHFyC0n6Hv12U7qYQIs0YXccj39KFIXCBSrBod4oqittcfRLLTKE4dAAhtUVjyGZ_bUN6e0fsEu7IPIwAqsODsILivOO6wI7Q6cfFMm5suXF4_aICoiFOMXTlHrahzILz6mElHGf32aIf6Cloj=w640-h610" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWLV8uc73agUj4NL5KecOq95oG7T-vT8jnh3RzCd0TZLXRhSOcI5HmqsE3yymkEHj5ZjjrGU9ZHqpQoWK9-0dmaFmqLOY47iCEFBlaGxkWmytrFvW2J___l-VOVpMrHFqUVh4_AO8J1fgZWCd3kfTsdn-H6phfo2J9JCnTAJWL62a7uash-rSHWOWz=s890" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="890" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWLV8uc73agUj4NL5KecOq95oG7T-vT8jnh3RzCd0TZLXRhSOcI5HmqsE3yymkEHj5ZjjrGU9ZHqpQoWK9-0dmaFmqLOY47iCEFBlaGxkWmytrFvW2J___l-VOVpMrHFqUVh4_AO8J1fgZWCd3kfTsdn-H6phfo2J9JCnTAJWL62a7uash-rSHWOWz=w640-h596" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p><br /></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-41917374723637187802021-11-08T10:45:00.002-08:002021-11-09T01:07:48.385-08:00Valdemar As A Visiting Ghoul<p></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAymVq2jbznEBOqf1HfS-wH-mukK8PCtwEhpr2fx_lXTtJ7nvUqFiEIgC2FHgdTv2nt0W0OWeCqlNOf5eMpqEXFk53Y09oVQAvpyCny10w7p-sGYOlrtH3SztChJo-v66fYEe9YSjFtwA/s1003/IMG_6938-kopi.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="1003" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAymVq2jbznEBOqf1HfS-wH-mukK8PCtwEhpr2fx_lXTtJ7nvUqFiEIgC2FHgdTv2nt0W0OWeCqlNOf5eMpqEXFk53Y09oVQAvpyCny10w7p-sGYOlrtH3SztChJo-v66fYEe9YSjFtwA/w640-h350/IMG_6938-kopi.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdemar Andersen, <i>The printing shop of Simon Bernsteen</i>, 1908.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The printer Simon Bernsteen was the type of commissioner, who is otherwise known as a nightmare. He would give Valdemar Andersen very specific orders down to the smallest detail "... and then you place an owl on the top of...". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Their relationship, however, was that rare instance where it worked for both parties. Valdemar Andersen still found plenty of room to play and give the commission a twist of his own. The present woodcut is a homage to the first printing shop depicted in Europe from <i style="text-align: center;">La grât danse macabre des hômes </i><span style="text-align: center;">in 1499. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">Of course a printer deeply inspired by William Morris and the Arts and Crafts movement wanted to have the quality of his work presented as the next in line to the first printers on European ground. </span><span style="text-align: center;">The protagonist of both scenes is the printing press anchoring the picture plane. Below every stage of the printing process is presented along and around the printing press from typesetting, inking, and the pressing itself while it cuts to the bookseller in another scene behind them. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">The 1499-woodcut grasped the opportunity to present itself in a book on Death visiting high and low of society, nobles as well as printers. In the 1908-edition Valdemar placed himself as the disrupter;</span> he too is bending forward to set off the movement through the scene. He is a dapper gentleman with gloves and cane, while Simon Bernsteen is dressed in his work wear highlighting the art of his craft. His vertical lines are twinning with his printing press while the two in turn correspond to the towers of Copenhagen in the distance. The pride of his craft is embedded in every line of the composition. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Between the two are Valdemar's colleague, Hans Tegner, and to the right Bernsteen's daughters, Valborg and Cecilie. The former is presented as the bookbinder, while the latter is typesetting in the background.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tegner and Valdemar participated in a collection of image plates honouring the work of the publisher Peter Nansen in 1908. They may be assessing those very plates fresh from the press before us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3pKAK0o3VuhWCO4YY9ljH7HJkpXCqSR-Lp5fJn2kAMdJjQVt7urcLkAhKjMH_aNubsZj9RHURxuAjh1ZCMMxB5NTHQzlLcAyirdjzKV4JDinyz4FC5ymEgx3tL8Gpxh4EOjffIMeZLc/s625/dance-of-d2-625x528.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="625" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3pKAK0o3VuhWCO4YY9ljH7HJkpXCqSR-Lp5fJn2kAMdJjQVt7urcLkAhKjMH_aNubsZj9RHURxuAjh1ZCMMxB5NTHQzlLcAyirdjzKV4JDinyz4FC5ymEgx3tL8Gpxh4EOjffIMeZLc/w640-h540/dance-of-d2-625x528.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Page from <i>La grât danse macabre des hômes</i>, Lyon 1499. <br />Scheide Library, Princeton University.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-44092375995197713162021-11-03T04:16:00.000-07:002021-11-03T04:16:17.698-07:00Who Is The Spectator?<p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JeT8uY7C5G4zk2nLOqSax3NT5TBKftxyXIB51wLAoHOjX-jtTdI3qggLfm-CzLNfXU9YOD61nekqpuNbt30rzf21FLTqxC_A8NI-Ika9fg2k72cgoXLbU3U8fKEFRlWC8FLHBpwUyCs/s960/14292446_184183601985311_585315563832463547_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="960" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JeT8uY7C5G4zk2nLOqSax3NT5TBKftxyXIB51wLAoHOjX-jtTdI3qggLfm-CzLNfXU9YOD61nekqpuNbt30rzf21FLTqxC_A8NI-Ika9fg2k72cgoXLbU3U8fKEFRlWC8FLHBpwUyCs/w640-h552/14292446_184183601985311_585315563832463547_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siri Dokken, September 14, 2016: <br />- What do you think shall be the most important topic in the next parliamentary election?<br />- It must be schools. Without a doubt!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><p><br /></p><p>Glasgow is flooded - pun very much intended - with politicians, representatives, lobbyists, and activists during the UN Climate Change Conference COP26 trying to deflect from or argue what should have been done ages ago. The "26" is in itself indicative of the sickness of the situation.</p><p>It is indicative too of why cartoons increase in relevance with age. Siri Dokken's cartoon above is already from an earlier election cycle in Norway and the one by Khalid Albaih below covers a catastrophe in Sudan that in terms of news cycles was very much last year.</p><p>They define the one question we should no longer find any excuse to ignore; yet there is a fundamental difference in tone. In comparing the two the question therefore comes up:</p><p>Who is the spectator?</p><p>Within art theory the spectator has traditionally been defined as the balanced person, who is able to reflect with calm and understanding. This in contrast to the mentally struggling individual, who will react on a personal level unable to assess the artwork from a larger perspective. I am making a gross simplification, but spectators have traditionally been defined by their mental capacity.</p><p>The cartoonists know their audiences, however. They are not only connoisseurs of the human psyche addressing what we wish to ignore; they also know our capacity to take in what they are placing before us. This is less a matter cultural mores, than the mental surplus from the situation in which the spectators find themselves.</p><p>In both instances we as spectators are drowning on the picture plane as we are about to in real life. The difference is in the delay created by the respective compositions.</p><p>Siri has placed two people before us busy with their own lives, professionally and privately, placed within their own narrow perspective. The journalist - the public watchdog - gets the answer that will secure his story in the news. Can we give an honorary mention to the pinkie? </p><p>This is a mirror 101 on our own blindness. Siri is playing with us. Distraction is their game, just as we will at first ignore what is the actual story before us. Yet politicians are elected, they serve what we ask of them. Just as the climate change is our own responsibility. </p><p>Khalid too works with delay. At the first glimpse something seems to be missing. Usually framed portraits within cartoons are of persons no longer with us why they tend to have a black ribbon across one corner. </p><p>This young man is very much still alive, although not for much longer. He is same man we see below at a much older age, and with our time spent deducting the likeness between one and the other, the cartoon has already grasped our attention for several seconds.</p><p>This time last year Sudan was flooded. It was the worst flooding in a 100 years and the country declared a three-month state of emergency. 100 years of knowing from annual flooding that is was getting worse every year and nothing was done to prevent it in all that time. </p><p>A quiet cartoon, it embodies apathy. </p><p>Apathy was the cause of it and the cartoon transfers that very state of mind to the spectator. The shock is caused by the uneasiness of that nothingness of action. Khalid draws with understanding through compassion that action must be taken. He could not have addressed his Sudanese spectators with the same fervour of Siri. Power in Sudan for the past 30 years has been in the hands of a dictator. Democracy is on its first feet and now fighting off a military coup. The obstacles are real. Yet here too it is high time to act. </p><p><br /></p><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XpEzU0Hm-NWozMdOOCRKEUIaKQPA_lhp5ke6QDf3vUQdPyLTaHqyybD2EBh5X_r38bv9TX8KUX0wtOBeZF0E5Z0jNpuZc63cM_GTz35AKZdG6qFSImGpVOpTFmlpaTr3a_vKKidrMIM/s680/EhkkA8zXYAAywO5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="680" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XpEzU0Hm-NWozMdOOCRKEUIaKQPA_lhp5ke6QDf3vUQdPyLTaHqyybD2EBh5X_r38bv9TX8KUX0wtOBeZF0E5Z0jNpuZc63cM_GTz35AKZdG6qFSImGpVOpTFmlpaTr3a_vKKidrMIM/w640-h590/EhkkA8zXYAAywO5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khalid Albaih, September 10, 2020.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The cartoons shown are courtesy of Siri Dokken and Khalid Albaih and must not be reproduced without their permission.</div><div><div> </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br />Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-7840893520651571932021-10-26T00:22:00.000-07:002021-10-26T00:22:17.763-07:00Democracy Betrayed<p><br /></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlsKp3R-Wain-CqAHv2BbZE70lk75VdNc0GItjZu7ZAqIHU2n_e0luKXDvCp-lp_-aL-zU2JvCBaxR5_EQlukYpKt1-KA4ys9IAE6ME8pfl8g-s38OotsxaD5VTN5gGeTXX0do-txP3s/s730/247392271_5388896307793519_3590595912423300801_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="730" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlsKp3R-Wain-CqAHv2BbZE70lk75VdNc0GItjZu7ZAqIHU2n_e0luKXDvCp-lp_-aL-zU2JvCBaxR5_EQlukYpKt1-KA4ys9IAE6ME8pfl8g-s38OotsxaD5VTN5gGeTXX0do-txP3s/w640-h500/247392271_5388896307793519_3590595912423300801_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khalid Albaih, October 25, 2021.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mere moments into the military coup in Sudan, Khalid Albaih had published the <i>khartoon</i> that comprises the situation. The Sudanese military has carried out the most treacherous act possible: The stabbing to the back. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The mutual dance is no longer in what was a council to constitute democracy following the fall of the dictator al Bashir. Khalid doubles its treachery by making his protagonist the embodiment of those very persons who made al Bashir fall, when they insisted on dignity and took to the streets to pull through a revolution in 2018 after 30 years of dictatorship. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Khalid has created the <i>khartoon</i> without the use of contour, which makes for an airy, almost floating sensation throughout the picture plane. The shadows cast by the revolutionary's fingers is doubling the movement in the attempt to fend off the knives. The grasping into nothingness, not finding and not taking hold makes for the devastation of the situation and <i>khartoon</i> alike.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Or not yet? The revolution is as rightful as ever. That is the central message of the <i>khartoon</i>. It is creating understanding to the rest of the world while speaking directly to the revolutionaries of their continued right to dignity. They continue to be seen, they are in fact the complete picture plane. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Khalid Albaih has given his cartoon free to be shared.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-5157980147290667472021-06-28T00:18:00.000-07:002021-06-28T00:18:27.452-07:00An Act of Violence<p></p><div><br /></div>We even have a date: June 15, 1219. It does not make the story any truer, but it adds a certain air to it. On this date in history it was said that the Danish flag - Dannebrog - fell from heaven in the middle of a battle granting the victory and the sweet ever after to the Danes.<div><br /><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-9InvBsbuEaq6m5XUuumumYAFTG6Au-SvcIEmZyx_fX2tQznHJffNUW06XeepwdXSbNBaF8HKhYskhcIF5Mscffa_Q6D4fWsoILr4Cb0xMYqjl_aZQtNbssKu5ez-FIh1Bnb5afEnVY/s758/758px-Danmarks_flag_1219_Lorentzen.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="758" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-9InvBsbuEaq6m5XUuumumYAFTG6Au-SvcIEmZyx_fX2tQznHJffNUW06XeepwdXSbNBaF8HKhYskhcIF5Mscffa_Q6D4fWsoILr4Cb0xMYqjl_aZQtNbssKu5ez-FIh1Bnb5afEnVY/w400-h316/758px-Danmarks_flag_1219_Lorentzen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">C.A. Lorentzen, <i>Dannebrog Falling From Heaven</i>, 1809<br />Statens Museum for Kunst.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>That would make it the eldest flag in the world and the only God-given one, which with the precision of the date makes it too good a tale not to be told. Dannebrog has a happy presence in Danish daily rather than being a political one...</div><div><br /></div><div>Which makes the correlation of the falling flags in the two present art works all the more compelling. The one is a national-romantic painting from 1809 on that wondrous day - and I don't think I have ever seen it on a wall in the national gallery here. As paintings go, well, I need not say more, but it was probably printed in many history books these past centuries.</div><div><br /></div><div>The other one, the one of actual interest in 2021 and beyond, is by Khalid Albaih. This one is about to become reality. The Danish government will begin sending back our Syrian refugees. </div><div><br /></div><div>Khalid places it in the visual terminology where it belongs. This is an act of violence:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuE5iCR2_v9-FYpwBjLHVVvYr5vrML-8BIRNTTZrugloSJ9Hshag4eipVKDQXShKnlxSchW8CI0P7EZ9i_8CukBIzeCq5kiUPbAn9S38QPQ2k6GZqojm6AUTffhW-TjNMl9pUUSHiiPg/s1241/186548117_4893814853968336_8926413863530658036_n-kopi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1241" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuE5iCR2_v9-FYpwBjLHVVvYr5vrML-8BIRNTTZrugloSJ9Hshag4eipVKDQXShKnlxSchW8CI0P7EZ9i_8CukBIzeCq5kiUPbAn9S38QPQ2k6GZqojm6AUTffhW-TjNMl9pUUSHiiPg/w640-h568/186548117_4893814853968336_8926413863530658036_n-kopi.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khalid Albaih, <i>Denmark sending back Syrian refugees to "safe" Damascus,</i> May 20, 2021.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div>The central plane is the dark presence amidst the other war planes and their bombs. Only its cargo is falling softly among the debris.</div><div><br /></div><div>Never in history has sending back refugees in the midst of war been the right thing to do. It shall be a shameful chapter too painful to take in even for the perpetrators themselves and their descendants.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>It is the first cartoon on Danish political matters by Khalid and it is no coincidence that it was drawn on the brink of ending his residency as an ICORN-artist in Copenhagen.</div><div><br /></div><div>Khalid arrived in Copenhagen exhausted and battered from a decade of incessantly staying on top of the goings on across a number of continents, which put his life and his family in danger. His ICORN-colleagues in Norway or Sweden arriving at the same time as he did would soon look rested, rebuilding their lives and mental and physical health. </div><div><br /></div><div>Khalid, on the other hand, was continually on tenterhooks. </div><div><br /></div><div>"When are you leaving?" and "Where are you going next?" have been the incessant questions he has been met with from the instant he arrived in Copenhagen. There was no room to pretend even for a minute that he was in a situation of calm. Mentally - and physically too - it is a devastating place to be in. The pause button is on, but the counting is about to be resumed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being in a limbo where nothing is known beyond today is not a place to question the conditions you are in. Khalid did not even begin criticizing local politics. He continued his global outlook as before, which provides more than enough material and with beholders everywhere waiting for his next drawn analysis.</div><div><br /></div><div>He could of course have critiqued Denmark. This is a democracy after all, but by having no tomorrow at hand his situation was not unlike that of being a cartoonist who has aggravated an autocratic ruler and is now waiting for his day in court with a court date that is constantly postponed to keep them from doing new critical cartoons.</div><div><br /></div><div>The precarity of being in a limbo.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ultimately the loss is ours. Khalid is off to make new great projects of which two major ones - in each their continent - are well underway. </div><p>We may continue to nurture old tales, but Khalid's cartoon above is how we shall be known.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763846618237701364.post-61646153955083073052021-06-14T04:14:00.001-07:002021-06-14T04:14:39.187-07:00IT'S A CARTOON!<p> </p><p><br /></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9P_NQDOLcF68X2dPfC5U0RHOBZn_ee7kPQmoQ5T7jTYHWDHxCy92wvkJWQ9jNq95UMYmGNNgHpZTGbVPLhylIEDUY5ofbDURWsxTb7CUWlnS-UUxDQ4Mpkhyphenhyphen2rcZD4if9avVL8f4DLC0/s1003/IMG_1322.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="928" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9P_NQDOLcF68X2dPfC5U0RHOBZn_ee7kPQmoQ5T7jTYHWDHxCy92wvkJWQ9jNq95UMYmGNNgHpZTGbVPLhylIEDUY5ofbDURWsxTb7CUWlnS-UUxDQ4Mpkhyphenhyphen2rcZD4if9avVL8f4DLC0/w592-h640/IMG_1322.JPG" width="592" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gitte Skov, </span><i>Men er det sjovt</i><span style="font-size: small;"> (But Is It Funny), published at Cobolt, 2021.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPFWjjUGD8DohI-K69HbU7PQdGlNLdeXGQLJkiGnFDNVUqrSOw0kxgQQxTJmndRYlyVsUz7LhdL5dVN7E9CwmvHesV-lQtwYH6lR-d2rZAoSf8BIouNRTpGNNHlzSQIEEtoOj2mtGC3c/s496/Reynolds+1921.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="496" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPFWjjUGD8DohI-K69HbU7PQdGlNLdeXGQLJkiGnFDNVUqrSOw0kxgQQxTJmndRYlyVsUz7LhdL5dVN7E9CwmvHesV-lQtwYH6lR-d2rZAoSf8BIouNRTpGNNHlzSQIEEtoOj2mtGC3c/w400-h396/Reynolds+1921.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank Reynolds, <i>No, Dear, That's Not Funny</i>, 1921.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>There is no question mark rounding off the title. Gitte Skov's new book <i>Men er det sjovt</i> (But Is It Funny) denotes the existential pain of every cartoonist. It is as relevant in 2021 as it was in 1921 when Frank Reynolds drew his version of the dilemma here to the right.<div><br /></div><div>Then as now the anguish is the punchline and it works every time. The wringing out oneself only to see it shot to the ground the very moment it meets the world. Humour is pain in great cartooning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gitte Skov began what turned into an odyssey and eventually a book on Instagram three years ago. She published an almost daily cartoon exploring the restrictions imposed on the cartoonist. It was magnificent. She drew herself as the litmus paper test onto which she threw every acid possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>To be precise, she lets her protagonist do it all to herself. Her alter ego is spared nothing. On a sunny day Gitte Skov's pen is a hammer to the inner organs of her spectators and now we are playing with acids. </div><div><br /></div><div>Each cartoon dissolves what we have set up as premises and boundaries in our society. More often than not we have nothing to say in our defense. It is right there on the paper. </div><div><br /></div><div>I shall not detail what takes place in that it would spoil the effect. Every new twist and turn deserves to be seen on the book pages. Presently I wish to highlight Gitte's premise for the book in the precariousness of the cartoonist's life and work. Alarm is sounded by the mere presence of a cartoon. Cartoons are visual of nature and consequently immediately noticed to which we add the role of the political cartoonist as the<a href="https://cartooniana.blogspot.com/2015/12/charlie.html" target="_blank"> canary in the coalmine</a>. They comment on what is painful even in the best of democracies.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gitte's book was published last week in the same days as politicians and eventually the Minister of Education took steps to "rein in" researchers within academia. Mental egotism is the result of lazy brains with no readiness to consider anything outside of their own minds and when someone is directly saying <i>this is wrong,</i> it is as if the Red Queen of <i>Alice in Wonderland</i> has entered the room: OF WITH THEIR HEAD! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7FfMqeCOY2saXhIQ0UwzO-wViGlYzWKKIp47J4dIpSQXRz8tkgsLTBJ9iazvYC8yyao55AUxP3wMpv3_eaC39DvUP9X-YSE_b2Rhj-qMrGkgcJf7ajkl5Eh7UnAN1PZQ_ok8XbnhkIE/s1003/Charivari+juillet+1835.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="1003" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7FfMqeCOY2saXhIQ0UwzO-wViGlYzWKKIp47J4dIpSQXRz8tkgsLTBJ9iazvYC8yyao55AUxP3wMpv3_eaC39DvUP9X-YSE_b2Rhj-qMrGkgcJf7ajkl5Eh7UnAN1PZQ_ok8XbnhkIE/w640-h188/Charivari+juillet+1835.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> The header of <i>Le Charivari</i>, July 27, 1835.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>The problem is as old as the political cartoon. In 1835 censorship on printed images was reinstated in France when the satirical magazine <i>Le Charivari</i> happened to publish a red inked "blood red" (as the papers declared in the days following) edition the day before an attempt on the king's life. The edition was listing the victims of the corrupted "public order", but the (permanent) heading of the magazine happened to resemble the gusts and dusts of an explosion surrounding the king. The visual elements of the corrupted sucking up to the golden calf of a king was conveniently overlooked. The red edition was waved about in Parliament as a definite proof of - basically anything criminal at hand. It could have been an actual accomplice, or maybe it had been prophetic, inspiring a coup? </div><div><br /></div><div>It is always the fault of the cartoonist. </div><div><p><i>"It is thus no longer the printed word itself, which is its concern; it is the entire thinking sphere of the author"</i> wrote Meïr Goldschmidt, the editor of <i>Corsaren </i>(No, 193, May 24, 1844), which employed what became the first Danish cartoonist, Peter Klæstrup. Goldschmidt was defending his magazine in court that satire cannot be judged by what is implied, only what is actually there on paper. Otherwise the actual words become purely accidental, as Goldschmidt continued:</p><p style="text-align: right;"><i>"(...) and the next time it may just as well be asked; what have you meant by that smile, that gesture and so forth? But even the smile and the gesture are secondary, it is after all the idea, which is sought; one can therefore go even further and simply ask: What have you meant or thought in it or that moment, or in this or that year, or in all of your life?"</i></p></div><div><br /></div><div>What have you thought - as in ever? Anything can be read into it. Anything can be willfully misunderstood however careful the cartoonist or their editor. Goldschmidt was found guilty in spite of his eloquence and Klæstrup created what is basically a cartoon that could be shown today. A hand with a piece of paper stating "The drawing must be imagined":</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kqcGG90_jSh_LXjqE_CniUk_IQ4hL15N3ojLDZQtjlzcUXDfs3gm5G1U5cyXMedNgHBf7xHrInjmrY0aZGEGePbTr5m4huc47kw4u-1pnuIdo5CI_C2SdFiB6h8Az4HBqnJwSII8M3k/s531/Tegningen+t%25C3%25A6nkes.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="466" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kqcGG90_jSh_LXjqE_CniUk_IQ4hL15N3ojLDZQtjlzcUXDfs3gm5G1U5cyXMedNgHBf7xHrInjmrY0aZGEGePbTr5m4huc47kw4u-1pnuIdo5CI_C2SdFiB6h8Az4HBqnJwSII8M3k/w562-h640/Tegningen+t%25C3%25A6nkes.JPG" width="562" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">"The drawing must be imagined"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Peter Klæstrup, <i>Corsaren</i>, No. 198, June 28, 1844.</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><div>The cartoon above is of course a provocation. Klæstrup was not throwing in the towel. He was as defiant as Gitte Skov is today on their right to express themselves and exert their profession. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which does not ease the relentless self-doubt asking oneself what is the right thing to do and how to go about it. Gitte chronicles her vulnerability in constant dialogue with her dog Frigg. Frigg is her voice of rationalism with eyes from within the shadows of mild despair. Frigg in turn consults her fellow canines on what to do next.</div><div><br /></div><div>What were originally one-frame cartoons on Instagram has been transformed into in a many-layered comic interspersed with full page punch lines. Frigg's dark nose is anchoring the page below and note how Gitte elegantly twists the angle of the scene in unison with their dialogue all through the page until full focus is placed on the final frame:</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgio74OHHLqBDDVy-7cvWXXxUVpgD_kc3gjpgNGQ8iYQ7WUCyZ8r4RoYlLecMqVT6YGYPY5SX2GokkIvlt3yA3Je5bc7Pdhnz4ZfMu1k2W9sSe6QIUDF2e4MGdztIq2iVTYuUnNbJWkKt8/s662/Gitte+2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="642" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgio74OHHLqBDDVy-7cvWXXxUVpgD_kc3gjpgNGQ8iYQ7WUCyZ8r4RoYlLecMqVT6YGYPY5SX2GokkIvlt3yA3Je5bc7Pdhnz4ZfMu1k2W9sSe6QIUDF2e4MGdztIq2iVTYuUnNbJWkKt8/w621-h640/Gitte+2.png" width="621" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Page from Gitte Skov, <i>Men er det sjovt</i> (But Is It Funny), 2021.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>From there the story takes off. Gitte puts herself on the line - pun absolutely intended. As opinion piece-creators cartoonists stand up for what they express. </p><p>And that burden would be so much easier to carry in the words of Goldschmidt, if cartoonists (and writers) were only answer to:</p><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><i>"(...) the words he has said and not for the thought, he expressed therein and not for the thought that could possibly be found to lie therein".</i></p><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The excerpts shown from <i>Men er det sjovt </i>are courtesy of Gitte Skov and must not be reproduced.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><p></p></div></div>Louise C. Larsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13718330534139652096noreply@blogger.com