Els hi explicaré una aflicció que patesc. I tinc un estrany sentiment que molts de vostés també pateixen. Quan estic caminant al voltant d'una galeria d'art, sales i sales plenes de pintures, després d'uns 15 o 20 minuts, M'adono que no estic pensant en les pintures. No estic amb connexió amb elles. En canvi, estic pensant en aquella tassa de cafè que desesperadament necessito per despertar-me. Estic patint de fatiga de la galeria.
I'm going to tell you about an affliction I suffer from. And I have a funny feeling that quite a few of you suffer from it as well. When I'm walking around an art gallery, rooms and rooms full of paintings, after about 15 or 20 minutes, I realize I'm not thinking about the paintings. I'm not connecting to them. Instead, I'm thinking about that cup of coffee I desperately need to wake me up. I'm suffering from gallery fatigue.
Com molts de vostès pateixen estant allà -- Sí. Ha ha, ha ha! Ara, de vegades vostè pot estar més estona que 20 minuts, o fins i tot menys, però crec que tots la patim. I sent que la culpa l'acompanya? Per a mi, miro les pintures de la paret i penso, algú ha decidit posar-los allà, pensa que són prou bons com estar en aquella paret, però no sempre ho veig. De fet, la majoria de les vegades no ho veig.
How many of you out there suffer from -- yes. Ha ha, ha ha! Now, sometimes you might last longer than 20 minutes, or even shorter, but I think we all suffer from it. And do you have the accompanying guilt? For me, I look at the paintings on the wall and I think, somebody has decided to put them there, thinks they're good enough to be on that wall, but I don't always see it. In fact, most of the time I don't see it.
I em sento realment infeliç. Em sento culpable i infeliç amb mi mateixa, en lloc de pensar que hi ha alguna cosa equivocada amb la pintura, penso que hi ha alguna cosa equivocada en mi. I això no és una bona experiència, deixar una galeria d'aquesta manera.
And I leave feeling actually unhappy. I feel guilty and unhappy with myself, rather than thinking there's something wrong with the painting, I think there's something wrong with me. And that's not a good experience, to leave a gallery like that.
(Rialles)
(Laughter)
La cosa és, crec que hem de donar-nos un descans. Si penses en anar a un restaurant, Quan ens fixem en el menú, s'espera que encomanarà cada una de les coses en el menú? No! Vosté selecciona. Si entra a uns grans magatzems per comprar una camisa, anira a provar-se totes i cada una de les samarretes i vol totes i cada una de les samarretes? Per descomptat que no, vostè pot ser selectiu. És el que s'espera. Per què, llavors, no s'espera ser selectiu quan anem a una galeria d'art? Per què se suposa que hem de tenir una connexió amb totes i cada una de les pintures?
The thing is, I think we should give ourselves a break. If you think about going into a restaurant, when you look at the menu, are you expected to order every single thing on the menu? No! You select. If you go into a department store to buy a shirt, are you going to try on every single shirt and want every single shirt? Of course not, you can be selective. It's expected. How come, then, it's not so expected to be selective when we go to an art gallery? Why are we supposed to have a connection with every single painting?
Bé estic intentant prendre un enfocament diferent. I hi ha dues coses que faig: Quan entro a una galeria, primer de tot, vaig bastant ràpid, i miro tot, i vaig concretant els que em fan frenar per algun motiu o altre. No sé ni per què em fan frenar, però alguna cosa em tira com un imant i llavors ignoro totes les altres, i vaig cap a aquesta pintura. Per tant, és la primera cosa que faig, faig la meva pròpia elecció. Trio una pintura. Només podria ser una pintura entre 50. I llavors la segona cosa que faig és estar davant d'aquesta pintura, i contar-me a mi mateixa una història sobre ella.
Well I'm trying to take a different approach. And there's two things I do: When I go into a gallery, first of all, I go quite fast, and I look at everything, and I pinpoint the ones that make me slow down for some reason or other. I don't even know why they make me slow down, but something pulls me like a magnet and then I ignore all the others, and I just go to that painting. So it's the first thing I do is, I do my own curation. I choose a painting. It might just be one painting in 50. And then the second thing I do is I stand in front of that painting, and I tell myself a story about it.
Per què una història? Bé, crec que estem connectats, el nostre ADN ens diu que hem d'explicar històries. Expliquem històries tot el temps sobre tot, i crec que ho fem perquè el món és una mena de locura, de lloc caòtic, i de vegades les històries, estem intentant de donar al món una mica de sentit, intentant posar algo d'ordre a això. Per què no aplicar-ho a la nostra mirada a les pintures? Així que ara tenc aquesta mena de carta de restaurant visitant les galeries d'art.
Why a story? Well, I think that we are wired, our DNA tells us to tell stories. We tell stories all the time about everything, and I think we do it because the world is kind of a crazy, chaotic place, and sometimes stories, we're trying to make sense of the world a little bit, trying to bring some order to it. Why not apply that to our looking at paintings? So I now have this sort of restaurant menu visiting of art galleries.
Hi ha tres obres que ara els hi mostraré que són pintures que m'han fet aturar en les meves rutes i vull explicar històries sobre elles. La primera necessita poca introducció-- "La noia de la perla" de Johannes Vermeer, pintor neerlandès del segle XVII. Aquesta és la pintura més gloriosa. La vaig veure per primera vegada quan tenia 19, i immediatament vaig sortir i aconseguí un poster d'ella, i de fet encara tinc aquest cartell. 30 anys després està penjat a casa meva. M'ha acompanyat per tot arreu on he anat, Mai em canso de mirar-la.
There are three paintings I'm going to show you now that are paintings that made me stop in my tracks and want to tell stories about them. The first one needs little introduction -- "Girl with a Pearl Earring" by Johannes Vermeer, 17th-century Dutch painter. This is the most glorious painting. I first saw it when I was 19, and I immediately went out and got a poster of it, and in fact I still have that poster. 30 years later it's hanging in my house. It's accompanied me everywhere I've gone, I never tire of looking at her.
El que em fa parar en les meves pistes sobre ella per començar va ser només els magnífics colors que utilitza i la llum que cau sobre la cara. Però crec que el que encara m'ha fet tornar any rere any és una altra cosa, i és la mirada del seu rostre, la conflictiva mirada en la seva cara. No puc dir si ella és feliç o trista, i canvio d'opinió tot el temps. D'aquesta manera em fa que hi torni.
What made me stop in my tracks about her to begin with was just the gorgeous colors he uses and the light falling on her face. But I think what's kept me still coming back year after year is another thing, and that is the look on her face, the conflicted look on her face. I can't tell if she's happy or sad, and I change my mind all the time. So that keeps me coming back.
Un dia, 16 anys després de tenir aquest cartell en la meva paret, estava al llit i la vaig mirar, i de sobte vaig pensar, em pregunto què li va fer el pintor per a donar-li aquell aspecte. I va ser la primera vegada que vaig pensar que l'expressió de la seva cara està reflectint en realitat com se sent sobre ell. Abans sempre havia pensat en ell com un retrat d'una nena. Després vaig començar a pensar en ell com un retrat d'una relació. I vaig pensar, bé, quina és aquesta relació?
One day, 16 years after I had this poster on my wall, I lay in bed and looked at her, and I suddenly thought, I wonder what the painter did to her to make her look like that. And it was the first time I'd ever thought that the expression on her face is actually reflecting how she feels about him. Always before I'd thought of it as a portrait of a girl. Now I began to think of it as a portrait of a relationship. And I thought, well, what is that relationship?
Així que vaig anar a esbrinar-ho. Vaig fer algunes investigacions i vaig descobrir, que no tenim ni idea de qui és ella. De fet, no sabem qui son cap dels models en cap dels quadres de Vermeer,, i sabem molt poc sobre Vermeer mateix. El que em va sortir, "Yippee!" Puc fer qualsevol cosa que vulgui, puc fer-me amb qualsevol història que vulgui.
So I went to find out. I did some research and discovered, we have no idea who she is. In fact, we don't know who any of the models in any of Vermeer's paintings are, and we know very little about Vermeer himself. Which made me go, "Yippee!" I can do whatever I want, I can come up with whatever story I want to.
Per tant així és com amb vaig fer amb la història. En primer lloc, vaig pensar, Tinc que portar-la a la casa. Com la coneix Vermeer? Bé, hi ha hagut suggeriments com que ella és la seva filla de 12 anys. La filla en aquella època tenia 12 quan va pintar el quadre. I vaig pensar, no, és una mirada molt íntima, però no és la mirada que una filla li dóna al seu pare. D'una banda, en la pintura holandesa d'aquell temps, si la boca d'una dona estava oberta, indicava la disponibilitat sexual. No hauria estat apropiat per a Vermeer pintar la seva filla d'aquella manera.
So here's how I came up with the story. First of all, I thought, I've got to get her into the house. How does Vermeer know her? Well, there've been suggestions that she is his 12-year-old daughter. The daughter at the time was 12 when he painted the painting. And I thought, no, it's a very intimate look, but it's not a look a daughter gives her father. For one thing, in Dutch painting of the time, if a woman's mouth was open, it was indicating sexual availability. It would have been inappropriate for Vermeer to paint his daughter like that.
Així que no és la seva filla, però és algú proper a ell, físicament proper a ell. Bé, qui més hi hauria a la casa? Una criada, una criada encantadora. Així, ella és a la casa. Com podem aconseguir-la dins l'estudi? No sabem molt sobre Vermeer, però dels pocs bits que sabem, una cosa que sabem és que es va casar amb una dona catòlica, va viure amb la seva mare en una casa on tenia la seva pròpia habitació on ell - el seu estudi. També va tenir onze fills. Hauria estat una llar caòtica, sorollosa. I si vostè ha vist els quadres de Vermeer, abans, vostè sap que són increïblement tranquils i silenciosos.
So it's not his daughter, but it's somebody close to him, physically close to him. Well, who else would be in the house? A servant, a lovely servant. So, she's in the house. How do we get her into the studio? We don't know very much about Vermeer, but the little bits that we do know, one thing we know is that he married a Catholic woman, they lived with her mother in a house where he had his own room where he -- his studio. He also had 11 children. It would have been a chaotic, noisy household. And if you've seen Vermeer's paintings before, you know that they're incredibly calm and quiet.
Com un pintor pot pintar aquestes pintures tranquil·les, amb 11 nens al seu voltant? Bé, ell va compartimentar la seva vida. Es posa al seu estudi, i diu, "ningú no ve aquí. Ni l'esposa, ni els nens. Bé, la criada pot entrar i netejar." Ella està en l'estudi. Ell la té en l'estudi, estan junts. I decideix pintar-la.
How does a painter paint such calm, quiet paintings with 11 kids around? Well, he compartmentalizes his life. He gets to his studio, and he says, "Nobody comes in here. Not the wife, not the kids. Okay, the maid can come in and clean." She's in the studio. He's got her in the studio, they're together. And he decides to paint her.
Ell fa que ella dugui roba molt senzilla. Totes les dones, o la majoria de les dones en les altres pintures de Vermeer porten vellut, seda, pell, materials molt sumptuosos. Això és molt senzill; l'única cosa que no és senzilla és la seva perla. Així que, si ella és una criada, no hi ha manera que pogués permetre's el luxe d'un parell d'arracades de perles. Així que aquestes no són les seus arrecades de perles. De quí són? Podem arribar a saber, hi ha una llista de Catharina, la roba de l'esposa. Entre elles un abric groc amb pell blanca, una brusa groga i negra, i pot veure aquesta roba en un munt d'altres pintures, diferents dones en les pintures, quadres de Vermeer. Clarament, la seva roba es va prestar a diverses dones. No és com un acte de fe pensar que aquesta perla pertany en realitat a la seva dona.
He has her wear very plain clothes. Now, all of the women, or most of the women in Vermeer's other paintings wore velvet, silk, fur, very sumptuous materials. This is very plain; the only thing that isn't plain is her pearl earring. Now, if she's a servant, there is no way she could afford a pair of pearl earrings. So those are not her pearl earrings. Whose are they? We happen to know, there's a list of Catharina, the wife's clothes. Amongst them a yellow coat with white fur, a yellow and black bodice, and you see these clothes on lots of other paintings, different women in the paintings, Vermeer's paintings. So clearly, her clothes were lent to various different women. It's not such a leap of faith to take that that pearl earring actually belongs to his wife.
Així que tenim tots els elements per a la nostra història. Ella està en l'estudi amb ell durant molt de temps. Aquests quadres van trigar molt temps per fer. Haurien passat el temps sols, tot aquest temps. Ella duu l'arrecada de perla de la seva dona. Ella és meravellosa. Òbviament, ella l'estima. Ella té un conflicte. I la dona ho sap? Potser no. I si no ho sap, bé... Aquesta és la història.
So we've got all the elements for our story. She's in the studio with him for a long time. These paintings took a long time to make. They would have spent the time alone, all that time. She's wearing his wife's pearl earring. She's gorgeous. She obviously loves him. She's conflicted. And does the wife know? Maybe not. And if she doesn't, well -- that's the story.
(Rialles)
(Laughter)
El quadre següent del qual parlaré s'anomena "Noi construint un castell de cartes" per Chardin. És un pintor francès del segle XVIII conegut per les seves naturaleses mortes, però de tant en tant va pintar persones. I de fet, va pintar quatre versions d'aquesta obra, diferents nois construint castells de cartes, tots concentrats. Aquesta és la versió que m'agrada més, perquè alguns dels nois són més grans i alguns són més joves i per a mi, aquest, com les farinetes de rínxols d'or, és la correcta.
The next painting I'm going to talk about is called "Boy Building a House of Cards" by Chardin. He's an 18th-century French painter best known for his still lifes, but he did occasionally paint people. And in fact, he painted four versions of this painting, different boys building houses of cards, all concentrated. I like this version the best, because some of the boys are older and some are younger, and to me, this one, like Goldilocks's porridge, is just right.
Ja no és un noi, i tampoc és un home. Ell està absolutament equilibrat entre la innocència i l'experiència, i això em fa parar en les meves rutes davant d'aquesta obra. Vaig mirar a la cara. És una mica com un quadre de Vermeer. La llum prové de l'esquerra, el seu rostre està banyat per aquesta llum que brilla. És just al centre de la pintura, i el mires, i he trobat que quan estava mirant-lo, estava de peu allà diguent, "Mira'm. Si us plau, mira'm." I ell no em va mirar a mi. Ell encara estava mirant les seves cartes, i això és un dels elements seductors d'aquesta obra, ell està tan concentrat en el que està fent que no ens mira a nosaltres. És a dir, per a mi, aquest és el signe d'una obra mestra, d'una pintura quan hi ha una manca de resolució. Ell mai em mirarà.
He's not quite a child, and he's not quite a man. He's absolutely balanced between innocence and experience, and that made me stop in my tracks in front of this painting. And I looked at his face. It's like a Vermeer painting a bit. The light comes in from the left, his face is bathed in this glowing light. It's right in the center of the painting, and you look at it, and I found that when I was looking at it, I was standing there going, "Look at me. Please look at me." And he didn't look at me. He was still looking at his cards, and that's one of the seductive elements of this painting is, he's so focused on what he's doing that he doesn't look at us. And that is, to me, the sign of a masterpiece, of a painting when there's a lack of resolution. He's never going to look at me.
Així que jo estava pensant en una història quan, si estic en aquesta posició, qui podria ser allà mirant-lo? El pintor no, no vull pensar en el pintor. Estic pensant en una versió més vella de si mateix. Ell és un home, un criat, un servent més gran mirant a n'aquest jove servent, dient: "mira'm. Vull advertir-lo sobre el que està punt de passar-li. Si us plau, mira'm." I mai no ho fa.
So I was thinking of a story where, if I'm in this position, who could be there looking at him? Not the painter, I don't want to think about the painter. I'm thinking of an older version of himself. He's a man, a servant, an older servant looking at this younger servant, saying, "Look at me. I want to warn you about what you're about to go through. Please look at me." And he never does.
I aquella manca de resolució, la manca de resolució en "La noia de la Perla"- no sabem si ella està feliç o trista. He escrit una novel·la sencera sobre ella, i encara no sé si ella està feliç o trista. Tornar una i altra vegada, a la pintura, buscant la resposta, buscant la història per omplir aquest buit. I podem fer una història, i ens satisfà momentàniament, però no del tot, i tornem una vegada i una altra vegada.
And that lack of resolution, the lack of resolution in "Girl with a Pearl Earring" -- we don't know if she's happy or sad. I've written an entire novel about her, and I still don't know if she's happy or sad. Again and again, back to the painting, looking for the answer, looking for the story to fill in that gap. And we may make a story, and it satisfies us momentarily, but not really, and we come back again and again.
El darrer quadre del que parlaré s'anomena "Anònim" per anònim. (Rialles)
The last painting I'm going to talk about is called "Anonymous" by anonymous. (Laughter)
Aquest és un retrat Tudor adquirit per la National Portrait Gallery. Pensaven que era un home anomenat Sir Thomas Overbury, i després van descobrir que no era ell, i no tenen ni idea de qui és.
This is a Tudor portrait bought by the National Portrait Gallery. They thought it was a man named Sir Thomas Overbury, and then they discovered that it wasn't him, and they have no idea who it is.
Ara, a la National Portrait Gallery, Si no sap la biografia de la pintura, és algo inútil per vostè. No es pot penjar a la paret, perquè no saben qui és. Així que per desgràcia, aquest orfe passa la major part del seu temps emmagatzemat, amb un bon nombre de altres orfes, alguns d'ells són pintures precioses.
Now, in the National Portrait Gallery, if you don't know the biography of the painting, it's kind of useless to you. They can't hang it on the wall, because they don't know who he is. So unfortunately, this orphan spends most of his time in storage, along with quite a number of other orphans, some of them some beautiful paintings.
Aquesta obra va fer aturar en les meves pistes per tres raons: Una és la desconnexió entre la boca que està somrient i els seus ulls que són nostàlgics. Ell no és feliç, i per què no és feliç? La segona cosa que realment em va atreure eren les seves brillants galtes vermelles. Ell està ruboritzat. Ell està ruboritzat per al seu retrat que s'està fent! Deu ser un tipus que es ruboritza tot el temps. Què pensa ell sobre el que està fent-li posar vermell? La tercera cosa que em va fer aturar en sec és el seu gipó absolutament magnífic. Seda, gris, els preciosos botons. I saps amb el que em fa pensar, en una mena de còmode i esponjós; És com un edredó estès sobre un llit.
This painting made me stop in my tracks for three reasons: One is the disconnection between his mouth that's smiling and his eyes that are wistful. He's not happy, and why isn't he happy? The second thing that really attracted me were his bright red cheeks. He is blushing. He's blushing for his portrait being made! This must be a guy who blushes all the time. What is he thinking about that's making him blush? The third thing that made me stop in my tracks is his absolutely gorgeous doublet. Silk, gray, those beautiful buttons. And you know what it makes me think of, is it's sort of snug and puffy; it's like a duvet spread over a bed.
Continuava pensant en llits i amb galtes vermelles, i per descomptat continuava pensant amb sexe quan el mirava, i vaig pensar, és aixó el que ell està pensant? I vaig pensar, si fes una història, Què és l'última cosa que posaria allà? Bé, sobre què estaria preocupat un cavaller Tudor? I vaig pensar, bé, Enric VIII, d'acord. Ell estaria preocupat per la seva herència, pel seu hereu. Qui heretarà el seu nom i la seva fortuna? Posi totes aquestes coses juntes, i tindrà la seva història per omplir aquest buit que el fa retornar. Ara, aquí tenim la història. És breu.
I kept thinking of beds and red cheeks, and of course I kept thinking of sex when I looked at him, and I thought, is that what he's thinking about? And I thought, if I'm going to make a story, what's the last thing I'm going to put in there? Well, what would a Tudor gentleman be preoccupied with? And I thought, well, Henry VIII, okay. He'd be preoccupied with his inheritance, with his heir. Who is going to inherit his name and his fortune? You put all those together, and you've got your story to fill in that gap that makes you keep coming back. Now, here's the story. It's short.
"Rosy"
"Rosy"
Encara estic emprant el gipó de brocat blanc que Caroline em va donar. Té un coll alt llis, mànigues desmuntables i complexes botons de fil de seda trenat, posats junts de manera que li quedi bé. El gipó em fa pensar en un tapall sobre un llit gran. Potser aquesta era la intenció. Primer el vaig dur en un elaborat sopar que els seus pares celebraren en el nostre honor. Sabia fins i tot abans que m'aixequés per parlar que les meves galtes estarien inflamades. Sempre m'he ruboritzat fàcilment, per l'esforç físic, pel vi, per emocions fortes.
I am still wearing the white brocade doublet Caroline gave me. It has a plain high collar, detachable sleeves and intricate buttons of twisted silk thread, set close together so that the fit is snug. The doublet makes me think of a coverlet on the vast bed. Perhaps that was the intention. I first wore it at an elaborate dinner her parents held in our honor. I knew even before I stood up to speak that my cheeks were inflamed. I have always flushed easily, from physical exertion, from wine, from high emotion.
Quan era un nen, les meves germanes i companys d'escola es burlaven de mi, però en George no. Només George podia anomenar-me Rosy. No li permetria a ningú més. Se les va arreglar per fer la paraula tendra. Quan ho vaig anunciar, George no es va posar color de Rosa, sinó que es va tornar pàl·lid com el meu gipó. Ell no s'hauria d'haver sorprès. Ha estat una suposició que un dia em casaria amb el seu cosí. Però és difícil d'escoltar les paraules en veu alta. Ho sé, que amb prou feines podria pronunciar-les.
As a boy, I was teased by my sisters and by schoolboys, but not by George. Only George could call me Rosy. I would not allow anyone else. He managed to make the word tender. When I made the announcement, George did not turn rosy, but went pale as my doublet. He should not have been surprised. It has been a common assumption that I would one day marry his cousin. But it is difficult to hear the words aloud. I know, I could barely utter them.
Posteriorment, vaig trobar a George a la terrassa mirant cap a l'hort. Malgrat haver begut constantment tota la tarda, ell encara estava pàl·lid. Estaven junts i miravem les criades tallant enciams. "Què pensa vostè del meu gipó?" Li vaig preguntar.
Afterwards, I found George on the terrace overlooking the kitchen garden. Despite drinking steadily all afternoon, he was still pale. We stood together and watched the maids cut lettuces. "What do you think of my doublet?" I asked.
Em va mirar. "Aquell coll sembla que està estrangulant-lo."
He glanced at me. "That collar looks to be strangling you."
"Encara ens veurem," vaig insistir. "Encara podem caçar i jugar a cartes i assistir a cort. No necessita canviar res". George no parlava. "Tinc 23 anys. És el moment de casar-me i produir un hereu. És el que s'espera de mi."
"We will still see each other," I insisted. "We can still hunt and play cards and attend court. Nothing need change." George did not speak. "I am 23 years old. It is time for me to marry and produce an heir. It is expected of me."
George va apurar una altra copa de claret i es va girar cap a mi. " Felicitacions pel seu futur casament, James. Estic segur que estaran contents junts". Ell no va utilitzar mai més el meu sobrenom.
George drained another glass of claret and turned to me. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, James. I'm sure you'll be content together." He never used my nickname again.
Gràcies.
Thank you.
(Aplaudiments)
(Applause)
Gràcies.
Thank you.
(Aplaudiments)
(Applause)