Tokyo Fuji Art Museum - go tokyo

The giant wave’s foaming white summit spreads high over the heads of the helpless souls huddled in their long thin boats, crackling into what look like many sharp claws. It is a monster, hungry to swallow human flesh. But beyond it, over the wild water, soothing the terror of those in peril on the sea, is Mount Fuji – a solid cone of hope and solace. The mountain, not the wave, is the hero of this masterpiece, as it is the hero of all the prints in Dulwich Picture Gallery’s stunning exhibition – the first in Britain – of the complete Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji. When you look closely here at three different, superb impressions of Katsushika Hokusai’s Under the Wave off Kanagawa – widely known today as the Great Wave – your mental picture of this icon is shattered by the violent onrush of water. In reproductions the wave just seems beautiful, an elegant curl of blue and white. But here, to paraphrase Tennyson, it is nature, blue in tooth and claw. The wretched people are the emotional heart of the picture, their imminent risk of drowning its whole point. The wave is out of control, murderous, yet it is also a passing moment, shows Hokusai, a devout Buddhist.

NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope has captured some remarkable phenomena in space, from the Horsehead Nebula to the unbelievable “Pillars of Creation.” Things just got a little bit wilder with brilliant images of the Lion Nebula (NGC 2392) captured by the telescope’s NIRCam (Near Infrared Camera) and MIRI (Mid Infrared Instrument). The shape is formed by the remains of a dying star now at a phase known as a white dwarf, when a very dense stellar core remains as it sheds its outer layers. On NGC 2392, the bright center looks like a little nose. “The central dying star is so hot that its radiation is ‘cooking’ everything from the inside and producing a bubble of ionized hydrogen gas as it does,” NASA says. “The gas bubble, which is the lion’s ‘face,’ features cavernous shells and rings with tendrils that are expanding and destroying dust upon encounter.” The lion’s “mane” is actually the inside of one of these shells, illuminated by the star’s core.

I don’t remember the last time I saw such a well-researched and truly globally representative exhibition that doesn’t patronise but quietly makes its case unapologetically, fearlessly and through sheer quality. Apart from being the first retelling of the international, pluralistic pictorialism movement, Tate’s new show allows for some refreshing encounters with unknown works for British audiences – around half of the works included here have never been shown in the UK. The effect is to radically deepen and widen our understanding not only of art history but the human impulses that drive us to make images in the first place. We move seamlessly from the sudden shock of colour in three-colour carbon prints of flowers in a London garden in the 1920s to works born of the photographic salons, circles and clubs of Sydney, Hong Kong and Brazil. Historical moments collide; the epic emerges from the everyday. A man rows home across the Norfolk Broads, another works on a construction site in Singapore. None of it feels out of place. It all belongs. It is all extremely, almost ecclesiastically, beautiful. More than a few times, I stopped in my tracks.

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Plus, protests disrupt British Museum ball, a new creative hub in Abu Dhabi, and other art world matters. The post Art Basel Wins Miami Beach Rent Cut After Threatening Vegas Move appeared first on Artnet News .

There have been a fair few Resurrection Symphonies this year, and a positive glut on disc, but Antonio Pappano has form with Mahler and the London Symphony Orchestra can be relied upon to follow where he leads. First, though, the UK premiere of a new work by Dai Fujikura that had precisely nothing to do with the main event but was no less interesting for that. Amber Alchemy, commissioned to celebrate the centenary of Nomura Holdings, was inspired by the beehives atop the Japanese financial company’s London offices. In his programme note, the composer expressed his intention to evoke rather than illustrate, yet it was hard to ignore the orchestral buzz that underpinned much of this engaging 10-minute work. Quivering strings and a shimmer of vibraphones opened proceedings with striking instrumental gestures trailing off in flickering diminuendos. Pappano and the LSO brought a commendable clarity to Fujikura’s intricately interwoven lines, contrasting the music’s romantic outward sweep with its apian inner restlessness. Intention to evoke rather than illustrate… Dai Fujikura with Antonio Pappano at the UK premiere of his Amber Alchemy.