Constantin Brancusi 21/2/1876- 1957 Rumania.

Una rtista moderno , inspirado en elarte tradiconal, un escultor de lineas

simles que nunca fue abstracto, las paradojas ene l arted e <brancusi son
nuestra propia imposibilidad de expreesar que es el arte.

1907:"A la sombra de una gran encina no pueden crecer arbustos jóvenes".

A Rodin, cuando lo invitó a trabajar con él.
"Para honrar a un gran hombre yo hago como el agricultor que construye un
pozo y le da el nombre de la persona que quiere recordar. He pensado hacer
en Bucarest este pozo y no una excelencia vestida de frac."
Apollinaire: Te encaminas hacia Auteuill, retornas a pie a casa; vas a dormir
entre tus fetiches de Oceanía y Guinea: son los Cristos de otra forma y de
otra fe, son los Cristos inferiores, de las oscuras esperanzas."
El Beso. Monumento a Tanosa Gassevskaia, 110: Hay algo hierático, ritual
en ese acto de amor que se cumple con sumaria geometricidad; algo
perenne que surge de los orígenes de la pareja humana sobre la tierra. (...)
Es un símbolo concreto de la génesis. Petru Cormarnescu, crítico rumano,
explicó que en la campiña rumana, los aldeanos tiene la costumbre de
plantar sobre la tumba de sus progenitores dosárboles, que al crecer,
entrelazan sus ramas en un indisoluble abrazo, ya que creen que los árboles
son seres vivientes. Brancusi: "El amor tiene en la voz de la especie su motor
invisible y mudo y en el impulso hacia lo absoluto y hacia la unidad - que en
tres casos me sforcé en expresarlos con los símbolos de El Beso - tiene su
motor palpable."
"A al simplicidad se llega a pesar de sí mismo, en cuanto uno se aproxima al
sentido real de las cosas".
"¿Qué cosa define a nuestra época/ La velocidad? Los hombres atacan el
espacio y al tiempo, acelerando sin tregua los medios para atravesarlos. La
velocidad no es más que la medida del tiempo que emplea el hombre para
salvar una distancia. Y tal vez se trate de la distancia que lo separa de la
muerte. La obra de arte expresa justamente aquello que no está sometido a
la muerte. Pero debe hacerlo en una forma que sea testimonio de la época
en que vive el artista".
El Pez. 1927: "cuando vean un pez, no piensen en sus escamas sino en la
rapidez de su movimiento, en su cuerpo... visto a través del agua."
"El símbolo religioso revela la solidaridad que existe entre las estructuras de
la existencia humana y las estructuras cósmicas. El hombre no se siente
aislado del Cosmos, se siente "abierto" hacia un Mundo que, gracias al
símbolo, se le hace familiar. Aquel que entiende así a un símbolo, no solo se
abre a al mundo objetivo sino que, al mismo tiempo, consigue salir de su
situación individual y acceder a una comprensión universal. Despierta la
experiencia individual y se transmuta en acto espiritual."
Adán y Eva. 1921: Eva está por encima porque su destino es perpetuar la
vida... representa la fertilidad, un capullo a punto de florecer, una flor a punto
de germinar; Adán debajo, cultiva la tierra, transpira y se fatiga.'
Usa el folklore como puerta a la transgresión de las vanguardias. E. Ionesco,
sobre la Maiastra, ave legendaria rumana que tiene el poder de vencer a las
fuerzas maléficas que amenazan su felicidad[tema de muchas de las obras
de Brancusi]: Sorprendentes, increíbles; folklore sin pintoresquismo; realidad
antirrealista; figura mas allá de lo figurativo; ciencia y misterio."
"No creo en el tormento creativo. La misión del arte e s crear alegría. No se
crea artísticamente sino dentro del equilibrio y la paz interior.'
El Milagro de la Foca. 1943; "El milagro consiste en la fusión de dos
elementos contradictorios: la agilidad y la pesadez."
"El sabio transforma su veneno interior en un remedio para sí y en medio de
curación para otros" "Le reprocho [a Miguel Ángel] su dinamismo
demoníaco."
[El "Sabio aldeano" que siempre quiso ser] nunca llora. Sonríe y construye.
Conoce una alegría constante. Demuestra su valor en los momentos arduos.
El aura de los mitos lo baña de azul."
"¡Crear como un dios! ¡Ordenar como un rey!¡Trabajar como un esclavo!"
"¡Oh, Al buen Dios lo esperaré aquí, en mi casa, en mi taller!".
James Joyce, en el Ulysses: "Los grandes movimientos que provocan las
revoluciones del espíritu nacen de los sueños y visiones de un pastor de la
montaña para quien la Tierra no es un campo de exploración sino una madre
viviente".

http://aprendersociales.blogspot.com.ar/2007/12/constantin-
brancusi.html
partiendo de unos planteamientos escultóricos anclados en
el realismo, el artista inició un camino, absolutamente
coherente, que fue acercándole de manera progresiva
hasta la abstracción, buscando, como él mismo afirmaba,
"la esencia de las cosas". Y no cabe duda de que lo
consiguió: sus obras fueron desprendiéndose de todo lo
accesorio y tendiendo a lo sencillo, dejándonos al tiempo un
extenso catálogo de enorme atractivo. Podría decirse que
Brancusi buscaba las pureza de las formas, pero que éstas
no eran más que un pretexto para mostrarnos el espíritu, lo
inmaterial, lo permanente. Tal vez ello explique porqué
muchas de sus esculturas presentan esas formas alargadas
tan características, como si quisieran soltarse de sus
pedestales y romper a volar, libres de toda atadura.

http://www.mcnbiografias.com/app-bio/do/show?key=brancusi-
constantin

Por estos años Brancusi había desarrollado sus imágenes en bronce y

mármol. Parecen a primera vista abstractas y muy simples, geométricas y
simétricas, pero de hecho son siempre representaciones, y sus formas
son alusivas y sutiles. Como Brancusi dijo: "hay imbéciles que dicen que
mi obra es abstracta; eso que ellos llaman abstracto es lo más realista,
porque lo que es real no es el exterior sino la idea, la esencia de las
cosas".

En 1920 Princesa X fue sacada del Salón de los Independientes, porque

sus formas parecían indudablemente fálicas. En 1926 las aduanas
estadounidenses declararon que Pájaro en el espacio, una pieza de bronce
pulido, no era una obra de arte sino un objeto manufacturado en el
extranjero y, por tanto, sujeto al pago de una tasa. En 1928, empero, los
jueces sentenciaron que se trataba de una obra de arte.

Paralelamente a estas obras, Brancusi desarrolló, a partir de 1913,

importantes trabajos en madera tallada. La imagen de éstos es bastante
distinta: sus tallas en madera son primitivistas y remiten al arte tribal.
Algunas veces creó también en madera formas suaves, como en mármol
o bronce; es el caso de Torso de joven (1922), Gallo (1924) o Retrato de
Nancy Cunard (1928).

Eso no quiere decir que Brancusi, después de este descubrimiento,

se hubiera puesto a hacer "arte popular rumano". No imitó las
formas ya existentes ni copió "el folklore". Por el contrario,
comprendió que la fuente de todas estas formas arcaicas, tanto las
del arte popular de su país como las de la protohistoria balcánica y
mediterránea, del arte "primitivo" africano u oceánico, estaba
enterrada en las profundidades del pasado. Igualmente comprendió
que esta fuente primordial no tenía nada que ver con la historia
"clásica" de la escultura en la que él, por lo demás como todos sus
contemporáneos, se había encontrado situado durante su juventud
en Bucarest, Munich o París.

Brancusi era contemporáneo por excelencia de esta tendencia hacia

la "interiorización" y la búsqueda de "profundidades",
contemporáneo del interés apasionado por los estadios primitivos,
prehistóricos y prerracionales de la creatividad humana. Después de
haber comprendido el "secreto" central, justamente que no son las
creaciones folklóricas o etnográficas las susceptibles de renovar y
enriquecer el arte moderno, sino el descubrimiento de sus "fuentes",
Brancusi se sumergió en una búsqueda sin fin, detenida sólo con su
muerte. Volvió de modo incansable a algunos temas, como si
estuviera obsesionado por su misterioso por sus posibilidades
artísticas que no llegaba a realizar. Trabajo, por ejemplo, diecinueve
años en la "Columna sin fin" y veintiocho en el ciclo de los Pájaros.
En su Catálogo razonado, Ionel Jianu registra cinco versiones en
madera de roble de la "Columna sin fin", además de una en yeso y
otra en acero, ejecutadas entre 1918 y 1937. En cuanto al ciclo de
los Pájaros, Brancusi realiza entre 1912 y 1940, veintinueve
versiones, en bronce pulido, en mármol de diferente colores y en
yeso. Es cierto que la recuperación constante de un motivo central
se encuentra también en otros artistas, antiguos o modernos. Pero
este método es fundamentalmente característicos de las artes
populares y etnográficas, donde los modelos ejemplares requieren
ser indefinidamente retomados e "imitados" por razones que nada
tienen que ver con "la falta de imaginación" o "de personalidad" del
artista.

Si en la obra de Brancusi se ha podido ver no sólo una solidaridad

estructural y morfológica con el arte popular rumano, sino también
analogías con el arte negro o la estatuaria de la prehistoria
mediterránea y balcánica, se debe a que todo estos universos
plásticos son culturalmente homologable: sus "fuentes" se
encuentran en el paleolítico inferior y en neolítico.

Mircea Eliade, "Brancusi y la mitología", en El vuelo mágico,

Madrid, ediciones Siruela, pp. 159-167.
Constantin Brancusi
 
The sculptures of Constantin Brancusi blend
simplicity and sophistication in such a unique way
that they seem to defy imitation. Yet it is impossible
to think of an artist who has been more influential in
the twentieth century. Almost single-handedly,
Brancusi revolutionized sculpture, invented modernism, and shaped the forms and
concepts of industrial design as we know it today.

Brancusi was born on February 21, 1876, in Hobita, a village in Romania's

Carpathian Mountains. For centuries, the region was known for its rich tradition of
folk crafts, particularly ornate woodcarving. It was largely the simple, geometric
patterns used by Romanian folk craftsmen that shaped the style of Brancusi's
mature works. His parents, Nicolae and Maria Brancusi, were poor peasants, and
little Constantin herded the family's flock of sheep from the age of seven. Even as
a very young child, he showed remarkable talent for carving tools and other
objects out of wood. He was also strong-willed and determined; to escape the
bullying of his father and older brothers, he often ran away from home. At the age
of nine, Constantin left his native village to work at various menial jobs in Tîrgu-Jiu,
the nearest large town. At 13, he came to Craiova, capital of the neighboring Dolj
County, where he worked at a grocery store for several years. When Constantin
was 18, his employer, impressed by his talent for carving, raised the money to
enroll him in the Craiova School of Crafts. Here Constantin indulged his love for
woodworking and, since he had received little formal education, taught himself to
read and write.

After graduating with honors in 1898, Brancusi entered the Bucharest School of
Fine Arts, where he received rigorous academic training in sculpture. As a student
he was hardworking as well as talented, and he quickly distinguished himself. One
of his earliest surviving works is a masterfully rendered écorché, a statue of a man
with the skin removed to reveal the musculature. Though just an anatomical study,
it already foreshadowed the sculptor's later efforts to reveal the essence rather
than merely copy outward appearances.

Bored with Bucharest, Brancusi traveled to Munich in 1903, and from there to
Paris. In Paris, he found a community of artists and intellectuals brimming with new
ideas and welcoming him into their circle. After spending two years in the
workshop of Antonin Mercié, another academician, Constantin was invited to enter
the workshop of Auguste Rodin. This was a tremendous privilege, especially since
Brancusi had long admired the eminent French sculptor and was greatly influenced
by his work. But, always independent, Brancusi left Rodin's side after only two
months, saying: "Nothing can grow under big trees."

It was after this break with Rodin's school that Brancusi "struck out on his own,"
developing a revolutionary style and establishing himself as one of the leaders of
modernism in art. His first mature work, entitled The Prayer
(http://www.itc.ro/museum/pozema/pozejpg/branc1m.jpg), was commissioned as
part of a gravestone memorial. A rough, minimalist, almost primitive bronze
sculpture of a young woman crossing herself as she kneels, it marked sculpture's
first step toward semi-abstract, non-literal representation, and reflected Brancusi's
belief in depicting "not the outer form but the idea, the essence of things."
Previously, like Rodin and his followers, Brancusi had modeled his sculptures in
clay or plaster and then made bronze casts. Now, he returned to the technique that
was truly his own - carving. After 1908, he abandoned modeling altogether and
carved all his works from wood, marble, or stone.

In the next several years, Brancusi worked on many versions of Sleeping Muse
and The Kiss (http://www.artchive.com/artchive/B/brancusi/thumbs/kiss_1912.jpg).
In these sculptures he fused the traditions of Classical, folk Romanian, African,
Egyptian, and Cycladic art, as he would continue to do in all his subsequent works.
Like many artists, he also began to incorporate "industrial chic" into his sculpture.
All these influences helped him develop the geometrically regular and spare
outlines that became the hallmark of his style. Yet, contrary to popular belief,
Brancusi never became an abstractionist: though his forms became more and
more simplified with time, they continued to resemble the subjects they
represented.

His works brought Brancusi growing popularity in France, Romania, and the United
States. Wealthy collectors, most notably the lawyer John Quinn, were buying his
sculptures. Magazines and art reviews published praiseful articles. In 1913, he was
simultaneously exhibiting in the Salon des Indépendants in Paris and at the
Armory Show in New York. In 1916, Brancusi moved into a studio in the Impasse
Ronsin, where he would live and work for the rest of his life. In the meantime, he
had become close with many of the intellectuals and artists who lived in Paris
before and during World War I. The poet Ezra Pound and author Henri Pierre
Roché acted as his confidants, spokesmen, and biographers throughout his life.
For a time, Brancusi worked closely with the Italian artist Amedeo Modigliani; poet
Guillaume Apollinaire and artists Pablo Picasso, Henri Rousseau, and Fernand
Léger were among his other associates.

Though charming and gregarious, Brancusi was a complex and somewhat

mysterious person whom few seem to have known well. Short and lively, he wore
a longish beard which, as he grew older, he supplemented by simple peasant
clothing. His interests ranged from music to science and philosophy. A talented
violinist and singer, he had an eclectic taste in music. He was also a famous cook
of traditional Romanian dishes and an extraordinary handyman, building his own
phonograph and fashioning most of the furniture, utensils, and even doorways in
his home. His worldview, which above all valued "differentiating the essential from
the ephemeral," was shaped not only by Plato but also by the ancient Chinese
philosopher Lao-Tzu and the 11th-century Tibetan monk Milarepa. On the one
hand, he was a "saint-like" idealist, almost an ascetic. He had turned his studio into
a kind of temple, and all who visited it remarked on the deeply spiritual atmosphere
that the artworks lent to the space. Yet, in the teens and twenties, he was known in
his bohemian circle as a pleasure-seeker and merrymaker, throwing lively parties
at which he served as host, cook, and entertainer. He appreciated cigarettes, good
wine, and the company of women, and he overindulged in all three. As Brancusi
gained wealth, he began to drink to excess and once had to be treated for nicotine
poisoning. Though he never married, he carried on a number of affairs and had at
least one child, whom, in a gesture uncharacteristic of a "saint," he never
acknowledged.

In 1920, Brancusi added to his already wide fame by exhibiting a work called
Princess X at the Salon. Its apparently phallic shape created a scandal, and,
despite Brancusi's vehement protests that it was intended merely as an
anonymous portrait, the work was removed from the exhibition. (Critic Anna Chave
has suggested that another way to read its title is "Prince's Sex.") Around this time,
Brancusi sculpted the first Bird in Space, a simple but sublime representation of
flight (http://metmuseum.org/collections/images/ma/images/ma1996.403.7a
%2Cb.L.jpg). This was based on an earlier series of sculptures called Maiastra --
in Romanian folklore, a beautiful and immortal golden bird that can foretell the
future and cure the blind. Brancusi would make over 20 other versions in the next
20 years, in highly polished marble and bronze, with each Bird slightly differing
from every other in curvature and thickness. These were so abstract that, when
Brancusi came to New York in 1926 for an important exhibition, he was prosecuted
by U.S. customs officials, who believed that his Bird in Space was an object of
manufacture or some unpatented industrial tool. By this time, Brancusi had begun
to attach great importance to bases, and he constructed bases for all his works
with as much care and originality as he invested in the sculptures themselves.

The court case aside, Brancusi was embraced much more readily in America than
in the Old World, and he visited the United States several more times in the course
of his life. In 1933, he was commissioned by the Maharajah of Indore to build a
Temple of Meditation in India that would house his works. Enthusiastic about the
project, Brancusi went to India in 1937 to finalize his plans and begin construction.
But the Maharajah was away, and then, bereaved by his wife's death, lost interest
in the temple. To Brancusi's great disappointment, the project was never realized.

Brancusi's disappointment, however, did not last long. In 1938, he completed a

World War I monument in Tîrgu-Jiu, the town where he had spent much of his
childhood. The monument commemorates the courage and sacrifice of the
Romanian civilians who successfully fought off a German invasion in 1916. This
expansive memorial, made up of the Table of Silence, the Gate of the Kiss, and
the awe-inspiring Endless Column, constitutes Brancusi's crowning achievement.

Perhaps because he himself saw in it the attainment of his ultimate artistic goal,
the Tîrgu-Jiu memorial marked not only the apex of Brancusi's career, but also the
beginning of its decline. In the remaining 19 years of his life, he produced only
about a dozen works, mostly on themes he had treated many times before. World
War II, and later old age, prevented him from traveling outside Paris. While his
fame grew, the once gregarious socialite became almost a hermit. Because
Brancusi seldom confided in others, the reason for this change remains largely a
mystery. But it is likely that his reclusiveness was in part an act. Ever driven by ego
and an impish sense of humor, Brancusi enjoyed playing the sage artistic
visionary, and would spout ready-to-quote formulations meant at once to awe and
mock the celebrity-hungry public. At the same time, though, his loneliness was
real. He must have realized that most of his relationships were merely professional
or superficial ones. Yet, unable to forge new, deeper relationships so late in life, he
had no choice but to turn inward. And, wizened by age and the continual
acquisition of knowledge, it's likely that he finally decided to trade the ephemeral
for the essential in life as well as in art.
In 1956, a journalist from Life magazine wrote of the artist: "Wearing white
pajamas and a yellow gnomelike cap, Brancusi today hobbles about his studio
tenderly caring for and communing with the silent host of fish birds, heads, and
endless columns which he created."

In his final years, Brancusi was cared for by a pair of Romanian refugees who had
moved in next door. In order to make these caregivers his heirs, and to bequeath
his studio and its contents to the Musée National d'Art Moderne in Paris, Brancusi
became a French citizen in 1952. He died on March 16, 1957 at the age of 81,
leaving behind some 1200 photographs and 215 sculptures -- a relatively small
output, but one whose aesthetic and cultural value is incalculable.

"My life has been a succession of marvelous events," Brancusi once said. Whether
or not this was really so, he had the gift of seeing the marvelous in everything, a
gift which he used to transform even the most mundane objects into ones that
inspire a purifying sense of awe. With his gleaming, seemingly weightless heads,
soaring birds, and columns, he revolutionized sculpture and invented visual
modernism. Yet these works are also a continued celebration of being and coming
into being, of both physical and spiritual ascent. They are at once mysterious and
revelatory, concrete and ethereal, simple and sublime; they force us, too, to see
the marvel that is inherent in everything.

 
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