Attilio Mussino

Attilio Mussino

Illustration for ‘Pinocchio’

circa 1911

     Little parallels, let alone excels, the illustrations that Mussino created for Carlo Collodi’s timeless tale of Pinocchio. In comparison with works by others, whether by those from the past or by his contemporaries, Mussino’s drawings exude a character of form and expression yet unrivalled as visual vestiges into the world of Collodi’s wooden marionette. Through dark contours, the choice of only a few colours and, of course, his own lovely simplified style of illustration, Mussino enlivened the mischievous peg-and-timber character with an equivalent sense of ‘birth’ to an otherwise inanimate object as do the actual words written by Collodi himself. Other attempts by various artists into achieving this equal relationship between (a) story and (its) pictures only resulted (by popular opinion) in a rather deadened, lethargic look to Pinocchio - or rather a Pinocchio drawn with little appeal to the imaginative thirst nearly all children seek from such magical tales as this. Mussino drew with the intention to tell rather than to impress his viewers of who Pinocchio is. He avoided drawing additional background  ‘noise’ (such as far-off trees, an indistinct butcher’s shop or perhaps a lone goose) or any extra flourishes to the important aspects of the narrative itself because, as any true illustrator can agree, he felt the greatest importance should be in giving the independent voices of the main characters as much room in which to speak for themselves - to communicate their own angle of their written world with as much visual clarity as possible. And by all means, in this particular scene one might easily interpret Pinocchio as saying, High-seated friend or foe, for what it’s worth, why not come down and play?

Mikhail V. Nesterov

Mikhail V. Nesterov

the Fox

circa 1914

     The light tickling of colours drifting through the air of this scene denote the time of day as indefinite, undefined. It may be mid-morning, early afternoon or, unusual but true, the last rays of fading sun basking down just after a great late evening storm. This sense of the unknown, of what exact hour it might be in which these four subjects exist, offers to the scene an ethereal mood - one that veils the trees, the slow underwater tide and even the individual tufts of dewy, cold grass or the mens’ white whiskers in a fairytale-like aura. One might even deem the air as somewhat misty, veiling further the subjects in a standstill; in a wispy capsule of painted time. 
     Like ever-curious children, the men sit and peer steadily around at their surroundings in such a way that suggests their affection for all that grows and evolves naturally; that which ceaselessly strives against the many turns and currents of humankind; indifferent and unaffected by its moods. Their backs to a stone dwelling (perhaps the far-winged turret of a small church), the three sages sit on the edge of this scene as though representing a ‘side’, the other of which is embodied by the creature facing them, the tip-toeing fox, and by the clustered mesh of mossy trunks. One may gather that, from this, there occurs a welcomed confrontation of the tamed and untamed sides of nature (though which is which?), and that the stretch of middle ground (in which a tree stump harmlessly squats as though a judge) symbolises the platform on which an inevitable examination will at some point be held. For now, there is but a single unseen string of tension hanging somewhere along the horizon - one that, in Nesterov’s perspective, is to be both playful and tumultuous in effect.

Wartime Dining

by (unknown) Austrian illustrator

New Year’s Eve Dinner Menu

circa 1915

     Held in honour of the ‘Austrian Army of the Field’, this New Year’s dinner made way for a menu featuring not only delicious dishes (including, of course, the irreplaceable Wiener Schnitzel), but also a deliciously quaint illustration. Classically block-printed and slightly blotchy in parts, its colour vignette beautifully portrays an anglicised blue-cloaked figure clutching a pine branch (?) and a slung ribboned wreath, while knocking gently at the door of whomever’s stepped entrance she stands on. From behind her looms a family of poised shadowy trunks, probably those of an Alpine species, with their earthy brown skins adding to the young girl’s wide-eyed glance a heightened sense of the relentless, ever-changing reformation of one’s outer shell that each new year requires. Charged with the complementary presence of Nature herself, the figure seems to knock more brusquely against whatever stubbornly stands between she and her quest, while at the same time looking out to us (to those who seem to follow in her wake) with a silence that says, Why not - what if? At the time, this illustration served as a symbol of hope to those on the final night of December 1914, with the figure’s inviting stance and gentle gestural knocking suggesting, perhaps, the inevitable oncomings of the unseen, the brutal truths and, finally, the recycling of peace - and how one must endure the pain of knocking down doors in order to truly see what lies ahead.

Paul Poiret for Herrmann Gerson

Paul Poiret (et l’Atelier Martine) for Herrmann Gerson

Raüme von Paul Poiret - Paris (for (une) revue allemande)

circa 1913 (November issue)

     Herrmann Gerson remains one of the notable forerunners of independent German couturier houses of the early twentieth century, with collaborations with contemporary figures such as Paris’ very own Poiret moulding for the house an indestructible image of style beyond the mere superbly-cut lady’s overcoat or gentleman’s evening suit. It is for this reason that the ever-evolving exhibition rooms for Herrmann Gerson, in which each season’s new line was publicly presented, feature in this illustrated bi-monthly (?) national review. The front cover (left) demonstrates the then-current wave of artistic influences washing through central Europe, with a great deal of emphasis placed on tightly-knit meshes of monochromatic pattern and Classical-like Michael Powolny putti taking centre stage. To the right, two photographs (page inset) promote the style of interior décor idiosyncratic of Poiret and his youth-orientated studio, Atelier Martine. Headed by Poiret, the studio was encouraged to incorporate into its textiles and similar creations his aesthetic-based admiration of nature. Firecracker-like blossoms, Fauvist-like colours and seeping, creeping shapes (such as the painted vine tendrils swaying along the walls and nearly tickling the ceiling) all swarm as one thriving entity despite their separate purposes and functions as either curtains, wall designs or even silk foulards. In this particular instance, the pairing of vibrant, avant-garde fashion pieces of Herrmann Gerson with Poiret’s touch of domesticated wildlife certainly imbued a distinctively new taste into the commonly misunderstood meaning behind ‘à la mode’.

the Wiener Werkstätte: Arnold Nechansky

Arnold Nechansky

Frohe Ostern! (Postcard no. 794)

circa 1912

     Classically elongated, from the typeface to the egg and the gazelle-like duo, Nechansky’s style enunciates its subjects with an elegant flow of form. The individual components of the illustration are drawn to simulate each others’ visual vernacular, enabling each one (with a bit of imagination) to ‘sidle’ into the two-dimensional skin of another, therefore uniting the design completely and without interruption. The letters, for example, mirror the forms of the ladies, while the ladies themselves precariously perch with a slim featheriness that echoes that of the F all the way to the !. Even the red eggshell, cradled by the woman in white, creates one of the three stepping stones helping to draw the eye smoothly across the postcard, beginning naturally with the uncoiling of beaded necklaces at the top; followed by the great yawning central ‘O’ (perhaps acting as the woman’s seat cushion); and circling (or might one say ‘oval-ing’?) right down to the standing woman’s balloon-like pouffe, only to draw the eye back once more to the top - to begin again, as one should (thrice) on Easter Day.