This is just amazing abstract art, isn’t it? It’s reminiscent of Cy Twombly but much, much better. The picture above has hung in a gallery in Brooklyn, New York. If it had hung in a gallery in Old City, Philadelphia, it probably would have gotten the same praise as it did in New York. I can hear it now:
“It speaks to me.”
“Just fabulous,” [as they swish their wine in their plastic cups.]
“Genius, pure genius. Just look how the artist has made such an intellectual statement. The vibrant reds are so emotional, it reduces us to a warm and fuzzy art snob glob of goo just staring at it.”
“I go to art school.”
“This artist is better than any new millennium abstract painter, and certainly better than Cy Twombly and other such scribble artists.”
Of course nobody told them who the artist is, and they probably didn’t read the info on the painting or the “artist’s statement” if any. Mostly, they were interested in hearing themselves talk, giving their avant-garde critique while wearing their berets and scarves.
I’ll give them the fact that the artist above is better than Cy Twombly. Also it is true that the artist has made much more an intellectual statement than any of these folk are capable of giving, and the artwork is done with more skill and the outcome produced is more aesthetically pleasing than any of them are capable of. But only if they knew who painted it:
A DOG!
Yeah it fooled them as I’m sure it fooled most of you. A dog painted this, and sure, for a canine it’s great. I amend my statement- for any abstract artist it’s great! I would die laughing if this little trick was played on the real people who hang around Old City on 2nd street and frequent the First Friday exhibits.
Not everybody is like this, don’t get me wrong- and the art shown is wonderful. It’s just the talentless spectators who cram into these galleries and look down their noses at people. Most are just interested in themselves and couldn’t care less about the art on the walls. But then again, I mostly don’t want to hear their b.s. about the art anyway: “It speaks to me!” It speaks does it? What does it say? It’s a canvas splattered with pink paint selling for $4,000. It doesn’t speak, it screams- “bad taste and overpriced!”
What gets me is that any dog or gorilla could accomplish most of what’s being paraded around as “modern art.” The minimalists of the ’50s were making a statement. They said since art history has been a constant reduction, why not skip straight to zero. That’s funny, and interesting, and they were the first to do it. Some art student today who paints a canvas blue and tries to sell it is not funny, or original, or talented. They may be talented otherwise, but splattering paint or making a blank canvas is not talent, and it’s not art. It’s been done!
I read an article the other day about how art has never really been representational and it’s actually always been abstract. I beg to differ. Since hieroglyphics, and cave art, people have always represented reality in recognizable ways. In ancient Eastern writing, the word for house looks like a little house. (I don’t speak or write in the languages, but you catch my drift.)
Art can be decoration, or can be a symbolic statement of some sort. And, risking getting away from my statement here, I will say abstract certainly has it’s place. Kandinsky comparing art to music is fantastic. He was a genius, and his art is beautiful. You can hear the symphonies and harmony while looking at his vibrant colors and shapes. His art had meaning, as does most of the art of the early abstract artists of the 20th century. Just don’t paint a canvas blue and call it, “A walk in the park while pondering the universe,” and think it’s art.
Even Jackson Pollock said most of his attempts have failed when splattering his paint. Some paintings turned out great and showed real energy and made a statement in force. Other times they just looked like paint splattered on a linen canvas on the floor.
So call it what it is. And don’t call it what it isn’t. Kudos to the art students who really come out with great art. Just don’t think that all art is abstract these days. If the underlining principle behind what the minimalists were saying was true, then art has already reached zero and it’s time to pack up and go home. There isn’t anything left to do. But that simply isn’t true.
If anything, abstraction is the fad. It was a trendy fashionable rage that had it’s time. It’s over now- get over it. But don’t despair. If you cannot paint, paid thousands of dollars for art school and you have no talent, then your paint splatters won’t get you far anyway. But if you have real talent, then create beautiful art. Forget about trends and fashions, and just paint.
If you sit down at a bar and order a “single plum floating in perfume, served in a man’s hat,” then you are a pretentious art snob and you will probably purchase that $4,000 pink blob. You will show all your friends at your cocktail parties and they will call you a genius. The trendy talentless art system needs you. So, give it your support.
If you are a paint splattering art student, study Tillie Cheddar the dog’s artwork. You could learn a thing or two!
Take a look at this picture. What do you see? A couple of stately gentlemen, probably fifteenth or early sixteenth century continental European, some instruments, globes, a gigantic four foot long skull, some books, a lute.
Wait, a gigantic skull?!
Look closely at the painting again, maybe you didn’t see it the first time. Did you catch that? Be honest. Don’t worry if you didn’t. Although you may think a humongous skull would be conspicuous, in this case the artist has shown it anamorphically. That’s right, he used anamorphic perspective, a perspective technique requiring the viewer to either use special instruments to see the object correctly, or in this case one must approach the canvas from the left to be able to see the perfect rendering of a large human skull.
Yesterday we saw some Trompe l’oeil examples and how paintings can fool the eye into believing what is seen is real. The term comes from Baroque times, but the use of perspective tricks is known since ancient times. With the advances of the Renaissance came better understandings of perspective, which brought back techniques such as Trompe l’oeil.
This particular painting is called The Ambassadors, and is by Hans Holbein the Younger, the same German artist who gave us the most famous Henry VIII portrait. It is a very interesting painting and has been studied intensely for its meanings. The sitters have been identified as Jean de Dinteville, French Ambassador to England on the left, and Georges de Selve, Bishop of Levaur, on the right. But recently de Selve seems out of the picture, and his elder brother Francois is thought to be the subject. This is still up for debate. What we do know is the inscription on the book by the subject on the right reads, “His age is 25,” while the inscription on the dagger of the subject on the left reads, “His age is 29.”
The painting is loaded with still life. They include items that reference the “Age of Exploration”- two globes (one the world and one the stars), astronomical tools, and a sundial. The symbolism and the whole composition with a secular man and a religious man can possibly mean a unification of capitalism and the Church.
Then there’s that skull. Let’s see it undistorted:
Including a skull in a painting is a Northern European style called vanitas, or “emptiness” meant to symbolize the transient nature of vanity- no matter who you are you will eventually become a pile of bones. Some believe this painting shows the three stages of existence- the heavens (astrolabe and celestial globe), the living world (books, musical instruments), and death (the creepy skewed skull).
While the exact meaning of Holbein’s work The Ambassadors leaves speculation, no one is unsure that this is the finest example of anamorphic perspective.
Ever see a painting where you thought you could just reach out and grab something out of it? Some paintings are so lifelike, look so real, it’s hard to tell yourself you’re looking at a canvas when you’re brain is sure it’s looking at a real situation.
This is called Trompe l’oeil. It’s a French phrase meaning “to fool the eye,” and involves painting in such high detail that the finished product is an optical illusion, making the viewer think the painting is really three dimensional.
Tricks of perspective are used and crafty painting is employed to make something look real. You might see a piece of paper seem as if it is stuck to a surface, or a fly appear to have landed on the painting. Sometimes the subject of the painting even comes out of the frame! One of my favorites is the huge painting by Frans Snyders, Still Life With Terms and a Bust of Ceres which hangs in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. No matter what it is, it is sure to look very realistic.
The photorealists of the 1960s, and the recent hyperrealist painters know Trompe l’oeil all too well, but the perspectival illusion technique has been around since antiquity. It is found in ancient Greek and Roman murals, where you might find a doorway painted on a wall, intended to show a larger room beyond. Advances in understanding perspective opened a new door for illusion painting, and artist playfully used Trompe l’oeil to achieve all kinds of affects to trick the spectator.
Ceiling Illusions
A whole genre in Trompe l’oeil is dedicated to creating illusions in ceilings. Sotto in su is the Italian term meaning “seen from below” and makes the viewer see real perspective in the painting, as if the surface is actually a receding area. A person below could look up at a flat ceiling and perceive a dome. Further yet, the dome could have an opening and beyond a vast blue sky showing us a beautiful day, rain or shine in reality.
Seen above is the ceiling of the Camera degli Sposi painted by Italian painter Andrea Mantegna in 1473. This is probably the first known use of Sotto in su and a fantastic example of the style. It was painted for his patron, the Duke of Mantua, and all across the walls are depicted scenes from the Duke’s life.
Visitors to this reception room would look up to see the illusion on an oculus, or round opening. Clever use of foreshortening allows us to look up and beyond the ceiling into the sky. Several women of the court are seen peering down into the room below while cherubim playfully cling to the railing. It’s a good thing they have wings, because it looks as if any moment they could slip. Also on the ledge is a pot with a small tree in it, which seems to be supported in part by a pole going across- not very sturdy. A peacock perches and watches the whole scene. This painted oculus was no doubt the most popular item in the whole room.
Trompe l’oeil has always fooled and amused everybody who has come across it. There’s a story of two Ancient Greek painters in a contest. One produced a painting so real birds flew down and attempted to eat the grapes in the picture. Laughing, he told the other he couldn’t win now, and just remove the curtains to see his painting. But it turns out the curtains were the painting, and the first painter promptly conceded defeat. Another story is of George Washington entering a room and bowing down to a person at the far end coming down a staircase, only to realize it was only a painting.
That is one big bee next to that sculpture, isn’t it? Where’d they find such a large bee? Oh wait! That’s a real bee we’re seeing, only that sculpture is actually that small. Is that even possible?
Last post we saw some of Ron Mueck’s amazing people, including the behemoth Boy. The extremely lifelike boy crouches down yet still towers above spectators at thirty feet high. But let’s take a look at the other end of the spectrum here. We’ve practically gone from planetary to atomic when we see these things.
I’m talking about microminiatures. You’ve heard of miniature sculpture but this is ridiculous. Some pieces sit on a pin head. At the museum one needs to actually peer through a telescope to see the details of these tiny artworks.
Nikolai Syadristy
One of the leading microminiature sculptors is the Ukranian artist Nikolai Syadristy. His works are considered to be some of the smallest works of art in the world. One of his works is a book, which is definitely the smallest in the world, being .6 square millimeters small. With 12 pages, it actually contains real poetry you can read- with the help of a magnifying glass, of course.
This amazing artist used to be an engineer and only does the microminiature work part time. He is now an author and most of his time is spent being an underwater athlete, believe it or not. But when he’s not writing or swimming, he’s constructing some of the smallest pieces of art possible.
To make the sculptures, Syadristy must hold his breath to keep his hand steady. He even needs to work in between heart beats, lest he make a mistake from the movement. The miniatures are made from tools you can barely see with the naked eye, by hand with no help from machines. And I complain about having to hold my hand steady when painting.
Heard of travel chess, the portable chess sets you can take anywhere? How about the kind on top of a pin? Syadristy’s Chessmen sits on a pin head and shows a chess board with pieces in the position of a real game played between chess masters. That’s pretty small. One piece called Swallows shows birds in a nest in half a poppy seed. Think about it- that’s a sculpture fitting into roughly the size of the period at the end of this sentence.
You know the expression about playing the world’s tiniest violin. Well here it is- it’s just over 3 mm long.
Syadristy has had a prolific and varied career and continues to receive acclaim from across the world, where his work is shown on all continents. Let’s hope he continues to make these tiny miniatures and he’ll doubtlessly never cease to amaze us. One only wonders what the man can achieve next.
Some mannequins and statues seem like they’re about to blink, turn to you, or jump out at you at any moment. They don’t seem like inanimate material or something fake. Rather they are like flesh and blood right before your eyes. There’s nothing ideal about them. What you see is an exact 3 dimensional replication of people. This is true of the sculptures of Ron Mueck. Well, “exact” except for size, in most cases.
A realist is any artist who uses their medium to portray subjects realistically from nature. Ron Mueck is what you call a hyperrealist. Like the photorealists such as Chuck Close, hyperrealist painters and sculptors take realism to the next level with a phenomenal attention to detail, being sure to include every hair, every goosebump.
Mueck was born in Australia and is based in Great Britain presently. He started out with puppetry and model making work in fantasy flicks like the 1986 film Labyrinth. Ten years after Labyrinth, the model maker decided to go solo and made the transition into the fine arts with his first major piece Dead Dad.
Scale: Miniature to Monumental
One of the things that sets this artist apart from contemporary sculptors is his use of manipulating scale. This can have a profound psychological effect on us. His people can be meant to tower over us and make us feel insignificant, like Boy (seen above), or on the other hand give us a glimpse at death by showing us a reduced version of a recently living human (such as Dead Dad).
Indeed most of the sculptures are not exactly life size. Dead Dad is only three feet long, while Boy is over thirty feet tall. Most are in between with some people about 1/2 size like the Angel, and others much larger than life like the woman in bed. One of my favorite works is the small old women. Extremely lifelike, as all of the works are, these women are more than just miniature copies of people. It shows emotion- ladies standing secretively gossiping away. They may as well be talking about one of the museum goers.
How Does He Do It?
Most of what you’re looking at is fiberglass or silicon. Much of the larger scale works are mostly fiberglass, save for certain features such as the face, which is silicon so hair can be made to look like it’s growing right out the skin. Much like the methods used for bronze casting, Mueck’s sculptures involve a process of molding and casting.
First, small studies are made in either plaster or clay until the artist is satisfied with the “pose.”
Next, a larger armature is made and wrapped in bandages soaked in plaster. Clay is molded around this armature.
The clay is sculpted to form the person- clay is scraped, smoothed and detailed until the final look is achieved.
A varnish is applied to the clay, to prevent cracking from taking the mold in the next step.
Silicon is brushed directly over the figure to form a mold. This silicon will retain every detail. Fiberglass is added to make a sturdy, yet somewhat flexible mold.
A wooden frame is built around the mold, and is attached to it. The frame is temporarily set aside.
The mold is carefully removed- at this point the original clay sculpture is not needed and is discarded, the important thing is the mold itself now.
The mold is put back in the wooden frame and it is ready for casting.
Before actual casting, a colored resin is painted on the inside of the mold where needed- fingers, where the blood flows close to the skin, etc.
Another thicker layer of resin is added called the “gel coat.”
Then fiberglass is filled in, save for the face, and set overnight.
The mold is carefully removed and the silicon face attached.
At this point veins, blemishes, shaved hair follicles, etc. are painted on.
A matte varnish is painted on the body, hair and eyelashes are attached, final details are painted.
It’s a long process but obviously worth it in the end.
Parallels
It’s hard to find much in depth on the highly unique artist himself and I’m not sure where he gets his inspiration. I do, however, notice some similarities in his work to the British painter Lucien Freud. Mueck’s showing of every little imperfection reminds me of Freud’s unforgiving portraits. I look at Mueck’s Big Man and think of Freud’s Nude. I also see Spooning Couple and think of other Freud sleeping paintings.
There’s more than just visual comparisons. There’s also that mood you get when looking at a sculpture by Ron Mueck, which is akin to the somber feeling of Freud’s neutral-colored and melancholy paintings.
Wherever he gets his inspiration, his work is more than just life-like- it’s human. Most of the work is very somber and emotional- with pregnant women, mothers, dead fathers, insecure boys, and just people being people. I’ve seen some hyperrealist sculpture and paintings where it seems that it’s just trying to copy exactly. That can not be said of Ron Mueck’s sculpture, because a mere copy would not be great art. His portrayal of the human form as well as his insight into the human essence is more real than real- it is perfect.
Major Mueck exhibitions have been at the Royal Scottish Academy Building, the Brooklyn Museum and the Modern Museum of Forth Worth. Currently a show is being held at the Warhol in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and I would really like to go to it if I can. It’s there until March 30th, two weeks from now. I’ll have to let you know how it goes. I know I couldn’t possibly be disappointed.
A serene and amusing group of musicians, is it not?
These practicing performers and many other portraits of melodic musicians was the result of the Church’s revival of music at the time of it’s execution. Cardinal Del Monte, in particular, was an avid music fan. So it’s no surprise when Caravaggio moved into this wealthy and important art patron’s house, that many subsequent commissions would involve music. Inspired by the musical mood of the Del Monte house, the artist was interested especially in the performance of the music itself, using instruments found from the house.
Caravaggio himself was interested in music and included the subject several times in his work, sometimes as part of a background, others as the main theme. He always made his scores easily readable, putting in notes from actual scores which can be read and played. These notes, in Rest on the Flight Into Egypt are easily recognizable as the Song of Songs, which Joseph holds up for the angel as Mary rests.
So why then, are the notes in this canvas indecipherable? Good question. While we at it, we can ask more questions about the composition. Although paintings are often reworked by artists, rarely are the pieces of four different paintings put together to form one whole. That’s right- four paintings, one for each of the players in this band.
Recognize the center figure? He is undoubtedly the player in Lute Player, a painting which actually has two versions already. The figure on the left looks remarkably like Boy Peeling Fruit. The figure in the back looking at the spectator is definitely a self-portrait, reworked from earlier paintings. And the figure with his back to the viewer is also a reworking from several earlier compositions.
So the indecipherable notes, and all four of the figures having appeared in earlier paintings all point to the possibility of this canvas actually being a collage of authentic Caravaggio paintings.
Could this be a fake? Some art historians believe it is, and for good reason.
I suppose I was in a somewhat musical mood when I painted the picture above. It wasn’t meant to be one of my greatest paintings, just a whimsical self portrait. Yet today it remain fairly popular, even though the background figures proved to be a little difficult to paint at the time- a pretty small scale. I still had fun painting it, exaggerating the truth a little with “painter’s license” putting myself strumming away at those six strings, even though I can barely play Mary Had a Little Lamb. I do really have a hat like that, though.
In yesterday’s post I explained how music and painting can be very similar forms of art. Looking at certain paintings can make you think of specific songs or styles of music. As a painter, music is playing while you paint, and sometimes by design you can have specific songs playing while you paint, perhaps to put you in that mood.
Breezing Up, by Winslow Homer
This was a fun painting to reproduce. Executed in a weekend when I also painted Homer’s Foxhunt. I love its spontaneity: off center, asymmetrical. It feels like someone took a quick snapshot. This catboat caught a good wind and races fast- notice the water splashing off the bow. Reminds me of riding around in Marine Corps river boats, water splashing and mist raining into your face. It must be fun to sail; I’d love to get into it, God willing I save up some money.
Ravel’s Bolero- Winslow Homer is an American painter who lived and worked around the Civil War. Bolero was written by Maurice Ravel in 1928, much later, although a bolero dance has been around since the 18th century. Despite the much later year this music was written, it sounds like 19th century to me. The excellent use of repetition and the anticipation make me think of a day of sailing with a storm coming on the horizon.
Ganymede
Ganymede was kidnapped by Zeus to be the cup-bearer to the gods. While the boy was tending to the flock on the mountainside, Zeus, the god of gods, took the form of an eagle and swept Ganymede off his feet. Several versions of this story have been made throughout art history including paintings by Correggio and Rembrandt. I didn’t take anything from any of their works but made my own composition. And, of course, painting in a classical style, there has to be nudity.
Pink Floyd’s Learning to Fly comes to mind first thinking about the story of Ganymede. Clinging to the god, Ganymede is carried through the sky to Mount Olympus as he watches the landscape so far below- the people are like ants.
Rowers
Painted as a tribute to Thomas Eakins, this a view of the Schuylkill River, Philadelphia, showing rowers practicing about to go under the Columbia Bridge. Eakins, a Philadelphia native, was known for his paintings of Philadelphia sportsmen, among other things. He often portrayed rowers on this river, so it makes a fitting tribute.
One of Eakins’ paintings is The Swimming Hole. That painting plus his other river landscapes make me think of REM’s Nightswimming.
Vampire
This was painted right before last Halloween, so there was some inspiration there. It was meant to be a dark vampire painting without showing the teeth or the actual bite, but rather right before. I’m a big fan of subtlety. The eyes have just turned red, the bite is just about to happen. The victims veins are visible all across his body, the neck is red, flowing with warm blood.
Bram Stoker’s Dracula inspired me to paint this, and there are two songs on the soundtrack that I listened to on the playlist while painting, and remind me of it: the Mina’s Photo song and the Storm.
Henry VIII, by Hans Holbein
And last but not least, this is Henry VIII, after Hans Holbein. This makes me think of the Counting Crows’ Have You Seen Me Lately? The long deceased Tudor monarch may wonder if he could, if he has been portrayed by artists since his death centuries ago. Who has painted me, how do I look, am I meant to resemble living people, have you seen me lately?
Music and painting are two different forms of art but they go hand in hand. Harmony is an attribute for pieces of music the same as it is a painting. Lines and colors flow across the canvas in a rhythm just as a musical work does. A piece of music sparks mental images and memories as the viewer feels emotions from the heart while in the experience. The same is true of paintings.
The two art forms complement each other. When I listen to Mozart, I imagine beautiful paintings. When I immerse myself into a painting, I hear the great works of musical masterpieces in my head, in symphonic glory as I gaze at form, light, shadow, and line. Every brush stroke, every speck of paint, every blade of grass, reflection, rock, and grain of sand is a symphony.
I can’t imagine a time when music was a luxury, even for the rich. Today I sit at my computer and while I blog or work I am constantly listening to music. When in my car, no matter where the destination or who I’m with, music is at least a background ambiance. People carry Ipods to the gym, the library, while jogging, and wherever else they go. Music is everywhere and it’s a great time to be living with this technology. Too often I think we take this for granted. Scarcity may increase value in simple economics, but when dealing with music, there can never be too much.
We associate certain times in our lives with a certain songs, perhaps because we heard the song on the radio at that time, or we later reminisced about the event while feeling strong emotions, listening to a song. Either way, music brings back memories of all kinds large and small, and when we here it we have strong feelings. Just the same as events I tend to associate certain paintings with certain songs for whatever reason.
When I did the photo expedition of Philadelphia statues for the first time, I had Bach harpsichord music in my head the whole time. I had listened to it on the way up and it stayed in my head while I was out shooting, so I will forever associate the music with that sunny day around the art museum. Another time at the museum I saw the Dali exhibit and was enthralled. The song by the Killers Everything Will Be Alright played in my head, particularly the slower part. The eerie part of the song resonated with the dreamy paintings of Dali; the whole experience was surreal.
Sometimes music fits perfectly with artwork. I put together a small collage of Caravaggio paintings and put some music in the background. The music is a 16th century madrigal, with singing but no instruments. It was written by the Italian composer Arcadelt who lived in the time of Caravaggio. Not only was it from the same region and time, but the beautiful voices go along perfectly with the masterpieces of the painter.
There’s also more music I think of Caravaggio when listening to. It’s from a fairly unknown band from the ’90s called Crash Test Dummies. One of their songs about skeletons in the closet was called The Ghosts That Haunt Me:
You’re so kind/ I know you would not mind/ Send away the ghosts that haunt me now./ Then things I fear just wouldn’t seem so near,/ when I stroll out late at night,/there would be nothing rattling at my heals…
You, Constant Reader, may know that Caravaggio is my favorite artist, with this being the fifth post mentioning him. Caravaggio had an interesting life and I can imagine how it must have felt toward the end, around 1610. At this point Caravaggio had been on the run from the law having been charged with the death of Ranuccio Tomassoni, constantly moving, seeking the aid of powerful patrons. He had a price on his head, and his own fear of decapitation was inherent in his artwork depicting themes of that nature- Medusa, David and Goliath, etc. The songs seems to go along with what he must have felt, wanting an end to the whole affair.
Of course, some songs have a special place in the artist’s heart as they remind of their own creation. Just as I listen to music doing every other day to day activity, I also listen to music while painting. Most painters I know do. I like to set up a specific playlist that has something to do with the painting I’m working on. Paintings like Vampire had lots of Type O Negative, Ozzy’s Ghost Behind My Eyes, Billy Idol’s Eyes Without a Face, and Nine Inch Nails, etc.
At least two posts in the near future will be about some paintings and the songs that come to mind when I look at them. Some of them I painted and remember certain songs while painting them.
But one more note about music and art. There’s one piece of music in history that is the pinnacle of all artistic achievement. This, of course, is the Ninth Symphony of Ludwig van Beethoven. Other composers had higher IQs, constructed more mathematically perfect works, and are held in higher regarded by historians. But no other work encapsulates body, mind, heart, and spirit as does this piece of work. The entire 4th movement, particularly, is just phenomenal.
I said I picture paintings when I hear music like this, but in this case I see the beauty and genius of all works of art in human history combined. Great music like this can be considered dated and old, but never obsolete. It does not get better than this. It is art straight from the human soul.
These words come from the introduction of The Practice and Science of Drawing, by Harold Speed. He talks of the dangers of academics to the artist in that if he is not careful, he knows all too well the exact techniques and mechanics of an art, but lacks true creative genius. The true artist’s talent is just a vehicle for expressing what is truly inside him. Many of the finest artists in history were self taught, and had so much talent they hardly needed the advice of anybody and usually ended up outshining their masters early on.
The truth is, however, we can not all be Leonardos and Picassos, and a little education will always do us some good. But to say these geniuses didn’t seek knowledge and learning would be a false presumption. Self education is still education, and a powerful one. Leonardo carried around his notebook with him and constantly jotted down peculiarities he saw and wanted to learn more about. Curiosity was a strong point with him, and he was constantly learning.
Project Gutenberg Ebooks
In this day and age we have the world at our fingertips, and learning has never been easier. Even without a penny you can get a full education from MIT’s free online courses, as well as from many other self-teaching avenues. The internet makes it almost impossible to not find what you’re looking for, no matter what subject. As far as art goes, there is an endless supply of resources for your education and entertainment whether you are looking to seriously increase your art skills or just find a few pointers on how to be a “Sunday painter.”
Most of the material now in the public domain is old, dated from earlier than 1923. The beauty of this book is that its subject is timeless. No matter where art goes in the future, no matter how “modern” you think art can get, the fundamentals will never change, and while technology gives us digital art, Photoshop, and other painting programs, a pen or pencil and a sketchpad are always a staple for the artist. Basic drawing will always be useful for sketching out ideas for bigger projects, sketching a subject, jotting down ideas, practicing, or as a mode of expression in itself.
The Practice and Science of Drawing
One of the decent books I found is called The Practice and Science of Drawing. You can see the whole book, with hundreds of illustrations at Project Gutenberg. Drawing here is defined as “the expression of form on a plane surface,” so we’re not just talking pencil and ink drawing, but basically all two dimensional compositions, including painting. In fact, many of the examples are well known paintings. If you’re looking specifically for “how to paint,” you can always check out my two cents on the subject at my How To Paint article series.
I found this book very informative and full of pictures and diagrams which will be very useful for beginners and intermediate artist brushing up on the basics.
It dissects some famous paintings to study their compositions. Note the differences in the line contours and how they express mood in the following two paintings, “The Birth of Venus,” and “The Battle of San Romano,”:
It is loaded with anatomy studies:
The last one above is a drawing by Michelangelo. Other examples from important artist in history include, clockwise, from upper left- Rubens, Titian, Velazquez, EL Greco, Correggio, Veronese:
Contents include chapters on vision, line drawing, mass drawing, the study of drawing, rhythm, portrait, procedure, materials, and more. It’s definitely worth checking out. Once again you can click here to be redirected to Project Gutenberg’s ebook The Practice and Science of Drawing.
Larger Than Life Statue By A Larger Than Life Sculptor
When you look at this statue, what do you see? No doubt you are looking at the single most recognized sculpture in all of human history. Show a photo of the Renaissance sculpture to anybody, even a young child, and I’m sure they’ll be able to tell you at least the title, if not the sculptor. Is there another statue that epitomizes the beauty of the human body like this? Is there such a stone, marble, or block of clay which exhibits such precise human anatomy?
This statue is the achievement of a lifetime for Florentine artist Michelangelo Bounarotti and the high point of an enlightened period of history. It is David, the biblical king, who slew the giant Goliath.
A Young Shepherd Who Became King
David, the Israelite, son of Jesse, was a young man of not much consequence who guarded his father’s sheep. By chance he ended up in the service of King Saul to play the harp, because he was very gifted musically, to soothe the king when he was mentally tormented by demons. When the Israelites are in camp, facing the dreadful armies of the Philistines, David simply brings food for his brothers and the king.
A champion of gargantuan proportions came to the front lines to challenge the Israelites in single one on one combat to decide the battle. Of course, the enemy forces were confident in their soon victory and the home camp didn’t know what to do. David, overhearing this rises to the challenge with an idea. The boy, being the youngest son of Jesse, was not thought of as a fierce warrior. So when the king heard David’s claims, he laughed at first, but reluctantly allowed the match, seeing no other choice.
The enemy forces at once erupted in laughter when the saw the young and slender shepherd boy accepting the challenge of the giant. The fight, however, did not take long, after the boy produces a simple sling and stone. With one sure shot he fired the projectile and hit the giant between the eyes, sure and true, killing the warrior instantly. Before the monster could hit the ground the enemies were fleeing in fear, thus securing the Israelite victory. David is hailed as a hero, made a commander of men, and wins many victories as well as the hearts of the people, eventually landing himself in the throne.
Recreating the Biblical David
During the Renaissance we saw a return to classical themes, to include many biblical stories. The story of David and Goliath is a popular one in art history and has been reproduced by painters and sculptors alike. After the Renaissance the painter Caravaggio would repeatedly return to the subject, even painting himself as the severed giant’s head, exposing his own fear of decapitation, as a result of a tortured life on the run from the authorities.
In terms of sculpture, many of the Renaissance’s greatest sculptors attempted the David and Goliath. Let’s first look at two earlier renditions.
Donatello (1430-1440)
Donatello’s bronze David was the first male nude single standing sculpture since antiquity, so when it was unveiled, it caused quite a sensation.
What we see is David after the fight, with a small smile on his face, with his foot on the head of the giant.
David here is overconfident, knowing God is on his side, as he stands nonchalantly with hip out, hand on other hip.
Decidedly the most effeminate of the Davids.
Andrea del Verrocchio (1476)
Verrocchio’s bronze statue of David once again shows a very young a frail looking boy with a sword, after the battle.
Like Donatello’s, the head of the slain giant rests on the ground, but this time next to David’s foot as opposed to under it; some historians have argued that Donatello intended the head to be between the feet.
This sculpture is very similar to Donatello’s including the posture, and effeminate nature.
Verrocchio intended the David to symbolize Florence: both were stronger than they seemed, and both were rising powers.
Michelangelo Bounarroti (1504)
The Michelangelo is the only case where we see David before the battle. He holds the single stone in his right hand and the sling in his left, as he gazes, with a human uncertainty at the giant (close inspection shows intense eyebrows, and a piercing look from very human eyes). There is no sign of Goliath in the statue itself.
The two notable Davids before this were bronze, Michelangelo carved his out of a giant block of marble.
Truly larger than life, the statue is 17 feet tall.
Unlike the others which have at least one article of clothing, Michelangelo’s David is completely nude.
The artist was only 26 when he received the commission, and completed the sculpture in three years.
Notice the proportions are somewhat off: the head and upper body are slightly larger than they would normally be. The statue might have originally been meant to be on a roof, where the viewers looking up at the statue would have seen correct proportions.
Questions have arisen due to the statue’s historical accuracy regarding the genitalia of David. The King David of the bible would have been circumcised, yet this version shows an uncircumcised penis. Some have conjectured that Michelangelo did this purposely, adhering to the ancient Greek ideology that a circumcised penis is considered mutilated. The small size of the genitalia is possibly for effect: a larger member may distract from the statue as a whole.
Queen Victoria was so shocked by the statue’s unapologetic nudity, that she commissioned a fig leaf to cover the genitalia. This fig leaf was kept on premise for subsequent royal visits.
Many Davids were produced after Michelangelo notably Giovani Lorenzo Bernini in 1624, and Antonin Mercie, much later in 1873, as well as many others. My conclusion is that none of them compare to Michelangelo’s David. Its mastery, its beauty and its glory surpass all other Davids before and after, and arguably all other sculptures in the history of art.
You are reading a daily art blog with topics ranging from art, art history, painting, sculpture, drawing, illustration, animation, artists, galleries, museums, and plenty more. It is authored by Dan Kretschmer, who lives around Philadelphia. Dan Kretschmer is also the author of a book called "Masters of the Renaissance," which takes a look at 18 of the most important artists of the Renaissance in Europe.
The purpose of this art blog is to raise general awareness of art and to share knowledge and interests. The author's goal is to spark interest in as many people as possible, and to inspire them to pursue art to enrich their lives.
