APOCALYPSE

John Martin, The great day of His wrath (Tate Britain)

As I had to be at the Tate Britain gallery yesterday (isn't it great to have to be in a museum?), I took advantage of it to see an exhibition that had piqued my curiosity, about the early 19th century British artist John Martin. I go to quite a few art exhibitions every year, some memorable, and some less so; for a few of the latter, I even struggle to remember any of the works on display. But I don't feel this is going to be the case with this exhibition: would you forget easily a series of painting depicting such subjects as the Apocalypse, the destruction of Pompei, the fall of Babylon, the Deluge, Satan presiding at the infernal council, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, all in a style just as dramatic as the piece above?

You would expect a painter who created such works to be one of those stereotypical doomed artists, a tortured soul rejecting the conventions of society and whose depiction of endless catastrophes are just an expression of his inner turmoil. Quite the opposite: John Martin was a conformist, yearning for artistic and social recognition, who deliberately created those dramatic pieces because he knew that the public would respond to them. In fact, he was one of the first artists who understood how to play to a budding mass audience and exploit their taste of the "sublime" (read: the terrible and the awesome) for fame and financial gain. The Salvador Dali or the Tracy Emin of his time!

Interestingly, John's brother Jonathan was a tortured soul, and was even committed after setting fire to York Minster. But if the one drawing of his featured in the exhibition is anything to judge by, Jonathan had nothing like the talent of his brother. Apparently, being unbalanced is not enough to be an artist...

I LIKE THAT GUY

Four hundred and six years ago yesterday, one Guy Fawkes was arrested and brought in front of the then king of England, James I, for his participation in a plot to blow up the Westminster Parliament. A few months later, he and his accomplices were found guilty of high treason and duly hanged, drawn and quartered. Sounds a bit unpleasant as a punishment, doesn't it? Don't worry, it's only an expression. The people thus sentenced were in fact tied behind horses who drew them to their place of execution, hanged almost to the point of death, emasculated, disembowelled, beheaded and then only quartered, which is as you would imagine chopped into four pieces. So they did not really suffer during that last bit (it's bad for the meat).

You'd think that after all that, Guy Fawkes had been punished enough. But every year since then, on November 5^th, adults and children all over the UK have celebrated the "happy ending" by burning him in effigy, as well as organising fireworks displays, and of course lighting lots of firecrackers. There used to be a part about going around in the neighbourhood with the effigy, asking for "a penny for the Guy", but I guess Hallowe'en has now taken over as far as groups of begging children are concerned.

Maybe it's the gruesome execution, maybe it's the fact that a few historians have questioned the reality of the plot, maybe it's because of all the noise made by the revellers, but I had never been too keen on Bonfire Night celebrations. Isn't it a bit inconsistent to celebrate with so many explosions the thwarting of an attempt to blow up parliament? Not to mention that November is a strange time to have so many fireworks, especially in a place where it rains so often...

Recently though, the symbolism of Guy Fawkes has been turned on its head. Ever since the release of the comic book V for Vendetta, where a man disguised as Fawkes fights almost single-handedly a fascist government in the UK and succeeds in blowing up the Palace of Westminster, people have started to identify with Guy Fawkes rather than celebrate his death. Masks like the one above have become anti-greed symbols, and they are selling like hotcakes (yes, there is a bit of irony in that). As a Frenchman, I am bound to feel more sympathy with that point of view: we like to celebrate the toppling of kings and the storming of their fortresses, not their victories.