Georges Méliès and the Dawn of Cinema

Before we subscribed to Netflix a couple of years ago, it had been decades since I had seen a complete version of Georges Méliès’ influential La Voyage dans la lune, also known as A Trip to the Moon (1902).

The short was originally shot in black and white, of course, while a hand colored version was also produced, but was eventually lost for decades. A print finally surfaced at the Filmoteca de Catalunya in Barcelona, Spain in 1993. By 1999 the compilation and digitization of the known parts began, with complete restoration beginning in 2010.

This hand colored version is the one featured on Netflix, and was an official selection at Cannes in 2011, having been screened at the Debussy Theatre at 7:45 pm on May 20th. 

The story is about an Astronomer’s Club that conceives and executes a lunar expedition, combining elements and devices from both Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, such as a bullet-shaped projectile/capsule-firing space gun and Selenites.

Six umbrella-waving astronomer travelers descend beneath the lunar surface where they are captured by Selenites and paraded before the Grand Lunar.There they revolt and fight their way back by madcap umbrella bludgeon warfare to the projectile, where one traveler remains outside to dangle from a rope and pull the capsule off a cliff - the edge of the moon, as it were - along with a Selenite stow-away hugging the back of the projectile. They return to earth, splashing into the depths of the ocean - with the astronomer and Selenite still miraculously clinging on! There is a rapturous reception, giant medals for the explorers, and an introduction of their Selenite visitor, who ends up dancing with his handler.

Méliès was a stage magician, known for props and tricks. He produced over 500 films throughout his career which spanned the period 1896 to 1913. His films ranged between one and 40 minutes, and covered genres like advertising, documentary – A Hypnotist at Work, historical reenactments - Divers at Work on the Wreck of the ‘Maine,’magic and illusion – The Vanishing Lady, drama – L’affaire Dreyfus, and of course fantasy, like our current subject, La Voyage dans la lune. 

Méliès interest in filmmaking began when he attended a cinematograph demonstration by the Lumière brothers, August and Louis in late 1895. At the time, the cinematograph was in direct competition with Thomas Edison’s Kinetoscope, but as the Lumière brothers mysteriously believed cinema had no useful future beyond science, they never sold their invention, even to the interested Méliès, and continued their work on color photography.

Yet, as is often the case with new technologies, other inventors were working on similar machines, including Robert W. Paul with his Animatograph in London, from whom Méliès finally secured a machine along with several films to play in his own Théâtre Robert-Houdin, where he had been performing his own magic shows since 1888.

Méliès reverse-engineered the projector into a camera, purchased unperforated film in London, and experimented with development and printing methods, and began producing his own films.

By 1897, a new generation of cameras had hit the market, and Méliès abandoned his old camera for something newer. He had also moved production to a new studio called Montreuil, outside Paris, enabling him to fill his days with production, and still present shows at the Théâtre Robert-Houdin in the evenings.

Méliès is the most famous of early filmmakers for his memorable use of special effects, partly due to his background as a stage magician and experience with props. These props were often papier-mache or painted sets, and his female performers, drawn from the Corps de Ballet du Châtelet, were often dressed in shades of grey Méliès knew would suggest color better than actual color costumes on black and white film.

Apart from the colorized version of La Voyage dans la lune available on Netflix, there are hundreds of his other short films uploaded to streaming sites like Youtube.

So, take an hour or so to step back 120 years, to the dawn of cinema, and enjoy what your great-great-grandparents probably thought was one of the most truly amazing things of their time.

References:
Stover, Leon E. Science Fiction from Wells to Heinlein. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2002. Print.
"A Trip to the Moon (1902) – IMDb." N.p., n.d. Web. 24 Oct. 2016.
"Georges Méliès - IMDb." N.p., n.d. Web. 24 Oct. 2016. 
"Méliès, Georges - Festival De Cannes (International Film Festival)." N.p., n.d. Web. 24 Oct. 2016. 

Detecting Inpainting in Artwork

If you’ve spent time around artists, museums, or artwork in general, you have probably heard the term "inpainting." Simply put, inpainting is a process that reconstructs deteriorated portions of a painting or image.

The term can be also be used in reference to the replacement of corrupted or lost parts of a digital image, and is also known as "image interpolation" or "video interpolation."

In the world of fine art, a painting may have experienced varying degrees of deterioration, loss or damage that an owner or institution wishes to restore. An art conservator is called in. The best conservators are able to match pigment and texture so well that an expert eye is needed to spot it – or at least eyes armed with the right technology.

Naturally there is an army of things to consider before executing any inpainting: light and color phenomena, pigments and their properties, preparation and fills, wet and dry inpainting, media and toning systems – generally synthetic resins, watercolor, gouache, gums, pencils, pastels, dyes, etc. And there are inpainting modifiers such as bulking, glossing, matting and polishing agents; medium/pigment/diluent adjustments for unique structures, the application instrument, and of course any overarching philosophical or ethical considerations.

So, let’s assume we suspect a work of having inpainting, but the conservator was highly skilled. One of the easiest ways to discover it without the benefit of an art museum’s conservation laboratory is by examining the work under ultraviolet light, a common UV-A “black light.”

I recently examined a painting by Anton Lhota (Austrian, 1812-1905), an oil on linen biblical scene of a horrified Judas returning the thirty pieces of silver reward money as he sees Christ carrying the cross through a window. The painting was professionally restored in 1985, and included inpainting with Liquitex acrylic above Judas' head, and an isolating varnish.

Unlike major museum quality restorations, the inpainting here is visible to the naked eye - if you know what you're looking for, but a simple black light in a dark room readily reveals the restoration.

History's Stylus Remains Stuck in the Same Groove

The 2016 presidential election seems the most contentious of my lifetime. The amount of cognitive dissonance and outright hypocrisy among supporters of the front runners is, well, staggering. 

My fellow Americans seem unable or unwilling to shake off the shackles of the two-party system, so other party candidates often play to matinee-sized crowds or the fringes. That's not to say these other candidates are not flawed - though for me one is, even with his flaws, the most reasonable of the bunch...not to mention the only one my conscience will not punish me for ticking the box.

Anyway, since I'll be away on election day, I cast my absentee ballot by mail earlier this week.

Around the same time I received an email from a friend asking my opinion on a critical survey of democracy in today's world by George Monbiot titled "What We Are." The essay appeared in The Guardian on October 5th.

Of course, it set me to thinking about H.G. Wells's own After Democracy of 1932 (Watts & Co., London), so I swiveled my chair and pulled my copy from the shelf. The book happened to fall open to page 22 where I found a passage on 'Liberalism' that still resonates 84 years later:

In the United States Liberalism has been completely suppressed for over a hundred years. That is due to its own blundering. In its days of opportunity it devised a Constitution of incredible pedantry, and that Constitution was studied very carefully, and then jumped by two powerful gangs, the Republican and Democratic Parties, which have ever since ruled the country with much violence and disingenuousness, a close association with gangsters, and an extremely efficient suppression of radical and socially constructive ideas.

Allegorical Fame by Hyacinth Phileas Sobre

Allegorical bronze figure of Fame by Hyacinth Phileas Sobre (French, 1826-1902)

Virgil wrote of her Roman equivalent, Fama, having "her feet on the ground, and her head in the clouds, making the small seem great and the great seem greater."

Sobre's work shows Fame running on the breath of the wind.

Evaluation of the Day: October 7th - Rembrandt van Rijn Etching

Studies of the Head of Saskia and Others 
Etching by Rembrandt Harmenz van Rijn (1606-1669), circa 1790s impression on laid paper by P.H. Basan, from C.H. Watelet/J and P.J. Mariette plates. Signed in plate, lower left.

More information soon.

Lewis Carroll, Salvador Dali and the Héliogravure

Today I had the pleasure of evaluating a copy of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, from a rare, limited edition published in 1969 by Maecenas Press - Random House, New York.

Printed in an edition of 2500, the unbound copies included an etching and twelve heliogravures, and with Salvador Dali's signature on the title page.

In case you're wondering, héliogravure is a process invented in the 19th century for reproducing photographic images and is regarded as the oldest of its type.

The copy is coming to auction in November, so I'll post more about it when it's auction catalog is released. In the meantime, here are a few quick images...