Wassily Kandinsky’s Yellow-Red-Blue (1925)

My appreciation of art spans many centuries. I’ve marvelled at the Greco-Romano art of the classical world; contemplated frescoes adorning Byzantine monasteries and churches in Turkey, Armenia and Cyprus; spent hours in galleries musing over paintings from the Medieval and Renaissance periods, through the eras of Baroque, Neoclassicism and Romanticism to late nineteenth-century Impressionism and on to…well to be honest, when we hit the twentieth century, my enthusiasm starts to wane. Sure, Art Deco was a bona fide, aesthetically pleasing and innovative art movement, and Cubism had its place, but when I start to consider Surrealism, Minimalism and Abstract Expressionism, I’m less impressed.

Sure, sure: it’s eminently possible to sit and enjoy a monumental and vibrant Jackson Pollock canvas in New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art – and I have done – and there will always be exceptional and intriguing art to be found throughout the twentieth century. But my contention is that overall these tend to be outliers, and that in amongst the gems there is a broad seam of distinctly uncaptivating art. You can enjoy a Mark Rothko but can you really be captivated by it? I can’t. And don’t get me started on the truly modern “art” of the last four decades, the likes of Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, the Chapman Brothers, Martin Creed et al…please!

Having said that, I’m going to give a free pass to one of the head honchos of Abstract Expressionism, the Russian painter and art theorist Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944). With Kandinsky I can embrace the new century vibe and be inspired by all that art theory behind colour and form. Kandinsky wrote voluminously about art theory: his writing in The Blue Rider Almanac and the 1910 treatise On the Spiritual in Art were bold affirmations that all forms of art can reach a level of spirituality. He founded the short-lived but influential Blue Rider group (Der Blaue Reiter) with like-minded artists such as August Macke, Franz Marc, and Albert Bloch, who experimented boldly with colour, lines and form, and gave priority to spontaneity and improvisation.

Kandinsky’s paintings are expressive explosions of colours, lines and shapes that have an extraordinary force and musical quality about them. Kandinsky recognised that there were important connections between music and abstract art: music is abstract by nature and does not try to represent the exterior world but instead expresses the immediate inner feelings of the soul. That is why Kandinsky referred to his works as “compositions”. I get it. I seem to remember having this composition – 1925’s Yellow-Red-Blue (Gelb-Rot-Blau) – on my kitchen wall in the nineties, and, to extend the musical metaphor, I find it rather jazzy!

Kandinsky, Yellow-Red-Blue
Wassily Kandinsky

The Eagles’ Hotel California (1977)

December 1976 saw the release of the Eagles’ Hotel California album, with its eponymous single released in the following February. This was right in the middle of a seminal time for me in terms of musical flowering (the release of the records straddled my 14th birthday) and it hit the spot just as surely as songs by the likes of Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, Cat Stevens and David Bowie had in the year or two previously. I loved the way the song told a story (a slightly discomfiting, odd story at that) and how it audaciously included an exquisite and lengthy guitar solo (2 minutes and 12 seconds) that would become the bane of radio producers bred to keep musical offerings short and sweet (the whole song is six and a half minutes long).

Hotel California was the Eagles’ fifth album and they were already the biggest band in America when they embarked on its recording. Sadly, personal relationships in the band had already broken down (a repeating theme in the life of the band, despite which, amazingly, the band endured); nonetheless, personal enmities never stood in the way of the band creating ground-breaking music. Guitarist Don Felder came up with the Hotel California riff, which was then developed by Don Henley and Glenn Frey. Frey’s lyrics were inspired by an attempt to “expand our lyrical horizons and try to take on something in the realm of the bizarre, like Steely Dan had done”.

He certainly nailed it: the brooding imagery around this faded hotel in the middle of nowhere (the hotel in The Shining about sums it up in my head) is magnificently evocative and the lyrics are peppered with killer lines. I cannot conceive of a better line, given the preceding lyrics and leading into the iconic guitar solo, than “you can check out any time you like but you can never leave”. Then again, have there ever been two opening lines – “On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair” – so evocative of a place and milieu? I could go on (“some dance to remember, some dance to forget” et al), but let’s instead just enjoy the whole piece and its wonderful duelling guitars at this live performance at Largo, Maryland, in 1977.

The Eagles