Magyar Hírek, 1984 (37. évfolyam, 2-26. szám)

1984-08-04 / 16-17. szám

Budapest Exhibition of the works of Desiderius (Dezső) Orbán

The Hungarian National Gallery is the scene of a rare event, for it is really exceptional anywhere not only in the Hungarian artistic life — to see an artist celebrating his one hundredth birthday present by new painted works at an exhibition. The creative powerof Desiderius Orbán, a resident of Sydney, Australia — born Orbán Dezső in Hungary — is still undiminished. The same concepts and ideals characterize the abstract world painted past his ninetieth year, which made him one of the most respected members of The Eight in Hungary in his youth. The fresh lyricism and personal nature of these paintings strikes the viewer first of all, but after a more detailed scrutiny one has to realize that each of them is just as much a microcosmos structured on the basis of experience gained of three-dimensional space, as those of yore, which communicated motives held together in architectural compositions, expressed in geometrical pictorial language. But what a difference in reception! Today the profession and the public pays its respects expressing sincere interest in old and new works of the Master, while in 1909, at the first exhibition of The Eight, called New Pictures, reaction was dominated by the smiles of people interested in a bit of fun, and the cautionary tone of obtuse critics: “Of thirty-two pictures exhibited, we stood astonished before at least twenty-eight” — wrote one of the critics — “and felt our heads reeling: aren’t we victims of some hallucination? So far our eyes do not allow us to see mountains as red, and people as green.” The expression was familiar from the skirmishes fought for and against impressionism, there was nothing novel about it. György Lukács, however, expounded the programme of the new art in the prophetlike tone of the -isms: “This art of order must destroy all of the anarchy of sensation and atmosphere. The mere appearance and existence of this art is a declaration of war. A declaration of war against every impressionism... all disorder *and negation of values, every ideology, that starts and finishes with the self.”

Conservative critics had no idea that impressionism was no longer the issue, that on the pretence of subjects familiar from impressionist pictures, portraits, nudes, still lives, landscapes, a new world of form and colour was organizing itself there, which was able to express the passions fermenting in the vats of the age, to transform visual experience and the

PHOTO: GENEBAL AHT

fundamental cause of the experience, social experience into a vision.

The works of Orbán, the art of the early 20th century, addressed Rilke’s moral command to the viewer: “Change your life!”. Principally those people concerned themselves with this categoric demand, who undertook the theoretical clarification of the intellectual problems of a century in its swaddling clothes.

The rise of the crisis that enveloped the whole of the intellectual life, of the battle of old and new was that of the youth and early art of Orbán.

Orbán Dezső emigrated from his native land in 1939. He found a new home in Australia, where as Desiderius Orbán he had to prove himself again, winning new friends. Reading the book he wrote for his students, one stumbles on lines of great poetry and meaning:

“The artist is forced by the desire of creation to create a new world, instead of imitating what exists.” He is most eloquent where he speaks about still life painting. “For a craftsman, a still life is but an assembly of appealing objects. After he arranges these according to plan, that is composing them, he begins to paint them one after the/other. He almost photographs the objects, just like the camera, and shuts out the disturbing effect of neighbouring objects from his angle of vision. Contrary to this, the creative artist grasps the whole of the picture with a single glance. For him things to be painted separately do not exist, only a single unit of colour and form. The space surrounding the figures is just as important for him as the objects themselves. . . This is what results in what I called a new world created by the artist. In this new world the objects and their shape have completely different meanings than in photographic representations. The forms come to life, and become separated from objects seen with the camera eye. They have a personality of their own. They compete with oneanother. The stronger suppress the weak. This is why the work becomes like a solid building, and the shapes of the various objects form an unalterable, indivisible unity.” It is not difficult to discover Cezanne’s principles . in. his explanation, which were closest to his heart of the teachings of the past, and have remained that right up to this day for the painter Orbán, whose best and most individualistic works are — in my opinion — his still lives. Just like Cézanne, Orbán is not fond of compromises: he has never painted beautiful objects, he gives an interpretation of connections of form and colour, reality behind the appearance. He painted closed and simple objects fixed in their place forever by the order of the composition.

Thus this Budapest exhibition is also a review of the Hungarian — and universal — history of painting; what could be higher praise for the centenarian master, than to conclude that this review demonstrates the most noble ambitions of modern art?

CSABA SÍK

THE CENTENARY OF THE ‘DOBOS’

A Dobos cake for one thousand was made for children gathered on St. Margaret Island to commemorate the creation of this immortal cake by that master pastrycook, József C. Dobos. Ever since then, the Dobos has been made — and eaten — in numerous versions everywhere.

The fact that this creation bears the name of Master Pastrycook Dobos is not generally known. Many believe that this big, round, layered cake filled with chocolate cream, and topped with glassy caramel derived its name from the drum (dob), to which it shows some similarity. Burghers of Budapest, who lived in the last

century would be amused to hear this, since József C. Dobos was not only a noted pastry cook, but a well-known personality. He was the owner of a high-class restaurant, and a similarly elite confectioner’s shop, he also wrote books on the philosophy of eating and drinking; real Hungarian Brillat-Savarin.

His books are no longer read, but his cake has survived these hundred years. I very much doubt, though, that the multi-storeyed “centenary eake” for one thousand survived even one hundred minutes on St Margaret Island among the throng of eager children.

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