The Procession to Calvary by Pieter Bruegel the Elder

Procession to Calvary by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1564)

One of my very first offerings for My Daily Art Display was a painting by one of my favourite artists Pieter Bruegel the Elder.  Today I would like to revisit this artist and show you another of his paintings entitled The Procession to Calvary which he completed in 1564 and which now hangs in the Kunsthistoriches Museum in Vienna.  This was probably the most complex composition of the Flemish painter.

This oil on oak panel painting was the largest known work of art by Bruegel the Elder, measuring 124cms x 170cms.  It is one of sixteen paintings by him which are listed in the inventory, drawn up in 1566, of the wealthy Antwerp collector, Niclaes Jonghelinck.  The composition is in some ways a traditional one.  It is the solemn religious event of Jesus bearing the cross on his way to Calvary where he is to be crucified.  However the story is transported into the time of Bruegel and by doing this the artist has given the subject of the painting an immediacy for his contemporaries as well as making a general valid statement about human actions.   It is not the Roman soldiers of Pontius Pilate that we see escorting Christ, but the mercenaries, in their bright-red tunics, who were in the service of Philip II of Spain, the ruler of Bruegel’s Netherlands. 

 When one first looks at the painting one does not know what to focus upon first.   It is a composition depicting Christ carrying the cross, as a semi-circular procession of incidental scenes set against a wide landscape crowded by tiny and animated figures.  Our eyes dart from scene to scene of this multi-faceted painting.  It is as if the painting invites us to look everywhere at once and not let our eyes loiter on one specific spot.   It is in some ways a chaotic scene, which one finds very bewildering.  It is typical of many of Bruegel’s paintings, which are usually filled with all types of characters.  There is a myriad of tiny figures rushing about, each with a task to be completed.   We are mesmerised as we try to see what each of the hundreds of figures is doing.  As we look at the bedlam we are drawn into it and become part of the crowd.   Some are arguing, some are fighting and as we look on we wonder what it is all about.  Our mind is in a whirl with all this hyper-activity.

The Mourners

So let me try and dissect the painting.   In the foreground, the sorrowful friends of Christ, standing on a small rocky crag, and are deliberately distanced by Bruegel from the hordes below.   These four figures, the Virgin Mary, John the Disciple and the two holy women, are larger in size than the rest and they are perched motionless and distraught above the chaotic goings-on below.  They are grief-stricken at what is going on behind them.  Saint John has moved to Mary, with her large blue veil.  Her face is pale and it seems as if she is about to collapse.  It is interesting to note that these two characters and those of the holy women are dressed in the clothes worn at the time of the crucifixion, whilst the rest of the figures, with the exception of Christ himself, are dressed in Flemish garments of Bruegel’s time.  Bruegel did this to give the painting a particular reference to his own day.

The Fallen Christ

Having let our eyes dart from scene to scene amongst the heaving mass our eyes try to find and focus on the figure of Jesus.  Our attention is drawn to the white horse and rider in the centre of the picture and then we see behind them the figure of Jesus who has fallen under the weight of the cross and is on one knee trying to raise himself up once again.  He is dressed in blue and yet for some reason it was hard for us to pick him out amongst the other characters.  Was that Breugel’s intention?  Did he purposely “hide” the figure of Jesus?  It is interesting to note that although Jesus is at the centre of the painting he is difficult to discern amongst the crowd.  His insignificance amongst the masses of people is a familiar device of Mannerist painting. 

Public executions were quite normal in 16th century life and especially in the troubled land of Flanders where Bruegel lived.  These macabre events were always well attended and had a carnival-type air to them.  I suppose that as such executions were carried out on a regular basis the onlookers became hardened and completely indifferent to the fear and misery of those being led to their death.   It is interesting to see that Bruegel has also added into his painting another regular happening at these events – pick-pocketing, as the crowds, in their excitement of seeing unfortunates being executed, were often oblivious to what was going on around them and were easy targets for the pickpockets.    

The two thieves

We see the two thieves sitting in a horse-driven cart being transported to their place of execution.   Their hands which hold a crucifix are tied in front of them and they look heavenwards beseeching for some divine mercy and at the same time babbling their final confessions to the cowled priests besides them.   The cart which trundles slowly on its way is surrounded by throngs of ghoulish spectators.

Golgotha

If we look to the upper right of the picture we see the mount of Golgotha and the two crosses already erected for the crucifixion of the two thieves.  Between them we can see men digging a hole into which the third cross, from which Christ will hang, is to be placed.  Crowds walk whilst others go on horseback towards this place so as to get a “ring-side” view of the forthcoming crucifixion.    As they move up the hill they pass through a landscape dotted with gallows on which corpses still hang and wheels to which fragments of cloth and remnants of broken bodies, not eaten by the ravens, still cling.

The sky to the left is blue and calm whereas the sky to the right over Golgotha is dark and storm-like and Bruegel’s landscape has us focusing on an impossible sheer rock outcrop atop of which perches a windmill.  Art historians differ on the significance of the windmill on this rocky structure.  However, impossibly sheer outcrops of rock characterize the landscape tradition of the Antwerp School founded by Joachim Patenier.

This is in some ways a moving painting with religious significance of Jesus on his long journey to his ultimate death.  However, as is the case in many of Bruegel’s painting, the animated antics of the numerous peasants depicted brings a smile to your face as you look to see what each individually painted character is doing.

Lamentation of the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna

Lamentation of the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna (c.1490)

My Daily Art Display today focuses on a painting, the subject of which has many similarities to the Hans Holbein painting The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb by Hans Holbein, which was My Daily Art Display of the day on February 20th.  Today’s painting is entitled Lamentation of the Dead Christ and was painted by Andrea Mantegna around 1490.

Andrea Mantegna was born in Isola di Carturo a small village close to Padua which was then within the Republic of Venice.  His father, Biagio, was a carpenter.  When he was eleven years of age he started an apprenticeship with Francesco Squarcione, an Italian painter from Padua.   His school was very popular at the time and over a hundred painters passed through the school.  Padua at the time was looked upon as a great place to be if you were and aspiring artist and the likes of Uccello, Lippi and Donatello spent time in the city.  Mantegna stayed with his tutor for six years.

Mantegna’s first work of art was an altarpiece for the church of Santa Sofia in 1448.  Although he gained a great reputation as an artist and was admired by many, he left Padua and spent most of his life in Verona, Mantua and Rome where he carried on with his paintings.  In 1460 he entered the service of Ludovico Il Gonzaga the Marquis of Mantua as his court artist.  This engagement earned Mantegna a great deal of money which was a sign of the high regard in which his work was held.  Whilst employed by Gonzaga he completed many fresco paintings of the Gonzaga family.

Today’s painting of the Lamentation of the Dead Christ was completed around 1490.  It is one of very few oil on canvas paintings of the period.  It is an almost monochromatic vision of Christ.  The painting has a limited amount of tonal colouring, mainly pink, grey and golden-brown.   The setting of the painting seems to be a morgue-like and claustrophobic space with its cold dark walls.  This poorly lit space intensifies the paleness of the body. 

Feet of Chirst

The forceful image is of the body of Christ laid out on a stark and granulated marble slab.  Mantegna has toyed with the rules of perspective making the head large, whereas if the rules of perspective had been adhered to then the head would be much smaller than the feet.  There is an intense foreshortening of the body which makes it appear heavy and enlarged.   

Christ’s suffering, before death, is plain to see.  Mantegna has given us an unusual vantage point.   It places the observer at the feet of the subject and by doing so, adds to one’s sense of empathy. It could almost be described as a gruesome sight.  The face of Christ is lined.  His head of wavy hair rests upon a pink satin pillow.  The wounds seen on the back of his hands are like torn paper, as is the horizontal cut in his side made by the spear. It is almost blasphemous, as here Christ has not risen from the dead and he is like us mortals.  In the foreground are the feet of Christ each with dried puncture marks made by the crucifixion nails.  Look at the skill in which Mantegna has painted the folds of the shroud.

The Mourners

 

At the left we have three mourners, Mary, Saint John and perhaps slightly hidden by the other two mourners, Mary Magdalene.  Their tear-stained faces are distorted in grief.  These contorted facial features derive from the masks of classical tragedy.  One cannot help but be moved by their expressions.

Compare this painting with Holbein’s The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb and see which you think is the most moving.

The Miracle of St Mark Freeing the Slave by Tintoretto

The Miracle of St Mark Freeing the Slave (1548)

So do you know who is Jacopo Comin ?   Have you heard of Jacopo Robusti ?  Jacopo Comin was born in Venice in 1518.  His father, Giovanni, was a weaver and dyer of cloth, who fought in the War of the League of Cambrai, which was part of the Italian Wars involving, France, the Papal States and Venice.  He put up such a stubborn and robust defence of the gates of Padua that his son, in his youth, became known as Jacopo Robusti.  However the father’s profession, dyer or tintore, gave Jacopo the name we know him by now.  Being the small son of the tintore he was given the nickname “little dyer” or Tintoretto.

Tintoretto was the eldest of twenty one children !   He was always interested in drawing and painting even from an early age.  Although he was to become, along with Bonifacio Veronese, the most successful of Venetian painters after the death of Titian, little is known of his early life although it is thought that he was at one time one of Titian’s pupils.  A lot of his artistic ability was self-taught.  His works were made to be spectacular, in size and quality to attract attention and his style was continuously imaginative.  His output of art works was prolific as he retained a large entourage of assistants. According to his contemporary and biographer, Carlo Ridolfi, the Italian artist and art historian, Tintoretto had inscribed on the wall of his workshop the motto: 

                    “The drawing of Michelangelo and the colour of Titian

These were his idols and  but his drawings were more emotive than those of Michaelangelo and he tried to synthesize the drawings of Michelangelo and the colouring of his old master Titian, but he used more sombre colours than those used by Titian.  For his phenomenal energy in painting he was termed Il Furioso.

His early works were signed “JACOBUS” followed by a drawing of a wheel, which was the symbol of the Dyers Guild, identifying himself as “Jacobus the Dyer’s son”    His first work, and My Daily Art Display painting today, was exhibited in 1548 and entitled The Miracle of St Mark Freeing the Slave.  It was this painting that launched Tintoretto’s career and made him an overnight sensation.   This enormous oil on canvas painting measures 415cms x 541cms (almost 12ft x 18ft).   He painted it at the age of thirty and it was to be the painting which made his reputation.  In this work of art we see Tintoretto’s use of foreshortening, which is a technique for creating the appearance that the object of a drawing is extending into space by shortening the lines with which that object is drawn.  He had an unusual way of coming to a decision about light and shading for his paintings.  He would create wax models and arrange them on a stage and then by training the light from spotlights on them he could see the effects the light would have on them and the shadows they would form.

This painting was one of four pictures he was commissioned to paint in the Scuola di San Marco.  The painting represents the legend of a Christian slave who was condemned by his master to have his legs broken and his eyes put out for worshipping the relics of Saint Mark, the patron saint of Venice, in defiance of his master’s wishes but was saved by the miraculous intervention of the saint who shattered the bone-breaking and blinding implements which were about to be used on the slave.  The naked slave lies face up in a stone courtyard, his torso twisted and his face turned toward the viewer.  His “owner” the slave’s master, dressed in black can be seen leaning into the center from a balcony on the left side of the canvas.   Saint Mark appears high up in the centre of the painting winging down from heaven to save the slave signifying that the latter should not be punished for his faithfulness.  His sharply foreshortened figure is shown in swirling orange and pink robes.  Surrounding the main characters are a myriad of people above and to the sides, more than twenty five in all,  pages, maids, servants etc. Those on the right hand side lean back as they look on whilst those on the left lean in to get a better view of the impending torture and killing.    The artist’s positioning of the figures around the slave and their disposition draws the eye of the observer to what they are all looking at – the slave and his miraculous rescue.  The way in which Tintoretto has depicted the varied reactions of these on-lookers is compelling.  His use of light and shadow add to the mood and aura.  But the most striking is the image of Saint Mark as the divine saviour as he descends.  

It is difficult to summarize the painting.  I believe it to be, in some ways, unsettling but thought-provoking.  Tintoretto’s use of “arrested motion” of the groups of onlookers adds to the aura of the painting.  The omission of a landscape makes us concentrate on the main scene.  The atmosphere of the painting is characterized by sudden and strong contrasts of light and shade.

The Tempest by Giorgione

The Tempest by Giorgione (1506-1508)

I wonder what you, as an observer, do when you stand in front of a painting.   What is it, about the painting, that makes it interesting for you?  Is “interesting” a word you would use when describing your feelings about a work of art?   As far as art is concerned, I guess we are all different and we all have various reasons for liking or disliking something, whether it is a painting or a sculpture, whether it is a piece of modern visual art or it is a Baroque painting.  I like certain types of paintings and dislike others.  I am not an artist and have no artistic background but I reserve the right to say what I like and I may even have the temerity to explain what I don’t like and discuss my reasons even if it exposes my naivety of art.   I have very little knowledge of artistic techniques but find it very interesting to read about them.  However besides the beauty of the actual paintings, what fascinates me most of all is the interpretation of paintings and the symbolism of certain objects within a painting.

My Daily Art Display today is The Tempest by Giorgione and along with the likes of The Arnolfini Portrait , the interpretation of this painting has been written about by many and commented upon in numerous blogs.  It was completed circa 1508 and can now be found hanging in the Gallerie dell’ Accademia in Venice.  What I find intriguing is that some of the interpreters of the painting are convinced that their assumptions are correct.   To my mind, there are a number of problems when one is being dogmatic in an interpretation of a painting.  Firstly, saying one’s theories are correct, by definition automatically discounts the theories of others as being incorrect.  Secondly, unless the artist, long since dead, has written about his or her painting or told somebody verbally about the meaning of their work of art then nobody can be absolutely sure that they are correctly interpreting the mind of the artist as he painted his picture.  Maybe interpreters of paintings should be less rigid about their interpretations.   Surely we should be allowed to look at a painting and put our own interpretation on what we believe was going through the artist’s mind when he was at the design stage of his or her painting.

I am not going to give you my interpretation of the painting for it would probably be just a combination of the various ones on offer from the “experts”.   Why don’t you study the painting yourself and then read the links I have added at the bottom of this blog which give detailed if opposing interpretations and work out what you believe to be the most credible one.  However first, to aid your thoughts, let me quickly go over what we see and what we don’t sees in the painting !   

Giorgione's woman and child

There are three humans in the painting.  On the right in the foreground is a woman almost naked except for a white cloth which she and the baby are sitting upon, the end of which is wrapped around both her shoulders.   She and the baby are sitting on the bank of a small narrow stream.  Sitting on the ground next to her right thigh is a baby suckling on her left breast.  The woman gazes out at us. 

X-Ray of The Tempest

Across the narrow stream on the opposite bank stands a young man.  He is looking across the stream but his gaze does not focus on the woman and baby.  What and who is he –  soldier, shepherd,  gypsy?  Do you think he looks out of place in the picture?  You may be correct as it is believed that Giorgione added him to the picture later.  This is known because an X-Ray of the painting reveals a pentimenti (underpainting) and in the place now occupied by the man, there was a nude woman sitting on the bank of the stream bathing her feet.

Just to the right of the man there is a broken column.  What is the significance of that?   In the middle-ground one can see a bridge over the widening river.  In one of the discussions attached  there is talk of a man crossing the bridge but from the internet copies of the painting and the X-Ray of the painting I cannot detect anybody crossing the bridge – but then my eyesight leaves a lot to be desired !.  To the right of the bridge is a building atop of which sits a large white bird.  What is the significance of the bird?  In the background we see a town above which storm clouds have gathered and there is a flash of lightening.

So make what you will of the painting and take a look at the weblinks I have attached below.  These are blogs of people who have seriously analysed the painting and come up with their interpretation.  However if you go to the end of the blogs you will see the comments from people who have read the blogs and in some cases have completely opposite views to the blogger’s interpretation.   They offer counter-interpretations.  It makes quite amusing reading for how can you politely state that you believe the proposed interpretation is wrong ! 

 Enjoy !!!!!

Blog – The Perplexed Palette

http://www.ginacolliasuzuki.com/the_perplexed_palette/2011/01/the-tempest-by-giorgione.html

Blog – Three Pipe Problem

http://www.3pipe.net/2010/07/unravelling-giorgiones-tempest-zcz.html

An Essay – this is not for the faint hearted as it a very wordy and highly technical thesis

http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Giorgione’s+Tempest,+studiolo+culture,+and+the+Renaissance+Lucretius…-a0102659361

Portrait of a Man (Self Portrait?) by Jan Van Eyck

Portrait of a Man by Jan van Eyck (1433)

My Daily Art Display yesterday featured the painting A Man with a Quilted Sleeve by Titian in which we saw a portrait of a man with a brightly-coloured blue tunic and I discussed what was one’s initial focus of attention, the face of the subject or the blue sleeve of the tunic.   Today’s painting, Portrait of a Man (Self portrait?), poses a similar question, what do we focus on when we first look at the painting, the bright red head gear of the man or the man himself?

Portrait of a Man (Self Portrait?) is a painting by Jan van Eyck which he completed in 1433 and is housed in London’s National Gallery.  The painting is still in its original wooden frame on which are inscriptions that have been painted in such a way that they look like they have been carved into the wood.    Along the bottom the inscription reads:

JOHES DE EYCK ME FECIT ANO MCCCC.33. 21. OCTOBRIS

Which when translated reads “Jan Van Eyck Made me on October 21st 1433”

Across the top of the wooden frame is the motto:

AlC IXH XAN

This is considered to be a punning allusion to the painter’s name “Als Ich Can (as I/Eyck can) which loosely translated reads “I Do as I Can” – a motto which appeared on a number of other paintings by Jan Van Eyck.

And so to the picture itself.  At first glance it is just a simple portrait.  The man stares out at us.  On his head is a red chaperon which was a form of hat that was worn throughout Western Europe in the Middle Ages.  Van Eyck’s painting of the headgear is wonderful.   The hat actually occupies more space in the painting than the face of the sitter.  Look at the multitude of folds and tucks in the chaperon.   One wonders how long it took the artist to master this part of the painting and how many preliminary drawings were made before he was happy.    As was the case of Titian’s A Man with a Quilted Sleeve, Jan Eyck’s man is seen against a plain dark background, which makes the figure stand out.  At first our eyes just register a red headpiece on the head of a pale white-faced man and do not take in the detail.  However careful examination of the face and the chaperon reveals a multitude of subtle shades and it is actually the painting is awash with detail. 

His eyes have a slight bloodshot appearance. In the book by Lorne Campbell, research curator at the National Gallery, London, entitled The Fifteenth-Century Netherlandish Paintings, he wrote of Jan Van Eyck’s depiction of the left eye thus:

 “…The white of the eye is laid in white mixed with minute quantities of red and blue. A very thin scumble of red is brought over the underlayer, which is, however, left exposed in four places to create the secondary highlights. The veins are painted in vermilion into the wet scumble. The iris is ultra-marine, fairly pure at its circumference but mixed with white and black towards the pupil. There are black flecks near the circumference and the pupil is painted in black over the blue of the iris. The principal catchlights are four spots of lead white applied as final touches, one on the iris and three on the white, where they register with the four secondary lights to create the glistening effect…”

 The man’s skin is weather-beaten and wrinkled.  There are signs of stubble on the chin, the texture of which is in contrast with the smoothness of the soft fur collar.   It is hardly a flattering portrait and has a “warts and all” reality to it, which makes one think that it may be a self-portrait of the then thirty-eight year old artist, as if it had been a portrait of a dignitary they may wanted it to be more pictorially agreeable.

 There is a distinct realism to this painting and Jan Van Eyck’s clever use of shadows is a characteristic of Italian Renaissance paintings.

 So there you have it – today and yesterday I have given you two portraits with some similar characteristics, which do you like the most and why?

A Man with a Quilted Sleeve by Titian

A Man with Quilted Sleeve by Titian (c.1510)

My Daily Art Display today is the oil on canvas painting entitled  Portrait of a Man, sometimes known as A Man with a Quilted Sleeve, painted around 1510 by Titian and which now hangs in the National Gallery, London.  There is some doubt as to the identity of the figure in the portrait.  Some art historians would have us believe that it is a portrait of Ludovico Aristo, the Italian poet whilst others believe it to be a portrait of a member of the noble and very wealthy Barbarigo family of Venice, who were early patrons of the young artist.  It is also possible that it is an early self portrait of the artist himself,  as in those days a number of Renaissance artists used the genre of self portraiture as a means by which their standing in the art world could be enhanced.

 As was the case of many of Titian’s portraits, the artist had the ability of giving his subject a flattering and dignified appearance.  The sitter looks directly out at us.   How would you describe the sitter’s expression?    There is an air of self-confidence and determination in his thoughtful gaze, which is enhanced by the relaxed and calm manner of his posture. Is there a tinge of arrogance in the way he gazes out at us?   He is almost but not quite smiling.  There is nonchalance in his expression.  Baldassare Castiglione, the Italian courtier, diplomat and famous Renaissance author wrote a book about Courtiers and the way they dress and their manners and he sums up the way grace and courtesy will triumph and be the hallmark of a refined man.  Maybe the expression on Titian’s Man with the Quilted Sleeve follows Castiglione’s rule that encapsulates the secret of the class of a refined man, for the author wrote:

 “…In so far as one may, flee affectation as if it were a sheer and treacherous precipice; and perhaps to propose a new idea, employ in all things a certain casual unconcern that will disguise artfulness and demonstrate what is done and said to be done effortlessly, as if giving the matter no thought…”

 This concept of “casual unconcern” became a guiding principal in painting in the 16th century. 

Note the stone parapet on which the subject’s arm rests.  If you look carefully one can see the artist’s monogram, “  T   V  ”  (Tiziano Vecellio) carved into to it.   This addition of a parapet or balustrade was a favoured convention of Venetian painters, which gives a separation between the observer’s space and the space occupied by the subject of the painting.  In this case, the parapet also acts as a hard textural contrast to the softness of the blue sleeve. 

The prominence of the man in the painting is enhanced by the plain and dark background.  Blue is the predominant colour of the man’s clothes and this gives the painting both a feeling of restraint and coolness.  What detail strikes you first with this painting?   Is it the man’s face and his facial expression or maybe it is the full, quilted blue sleeve in the foreground that captures your attention?  In tomorrow’s offering I will look at Jan van Eyck’s painting Man in a Turban and again the question is raised as to what we focus on, -the sitter’s face or the bright red turban?  However, the one thing that is outstanding about this portrait is the detail of that blue satin sleeve.  It is beautifully painted.  One almost feels that by reaching out one could touch the expensive fabric and smooth down the folds.  One is being shown quality material at its best.  Look carefully how the artist has painted the stitching of the satin in such great detail.  Note also how the artist shows a billowing effect of the soft quilted puffed-sleeve with its many folds. 

It is an enigmatic painting and the more times one looks at it, the more one discovers.  It is a veritable gem.

 

Three Women in Church by Wilhelm Leibl

Three Women in Church by Wilhelm Leibl

 

The artist featured in My Daily Art Display today is Wilhelm Maria Hubertus Leibl.  He was born in Cologne in 1844 and became one of Germany’s greatest Realist painters of that time.

Originally apprenticed as a locksmith and later as a precision instrument maker, Wilhelm decided to follow his love of art, gave up his apprenticeship, and took to studying and training to become an artist.  His first teacher in Cologne was the painter and author, Herman Becker.  When Leibl was nineteen years of age he moved to Munich and became a student at the Academy of Fine Arts.   He studied under many art tutors including Anschutz, Straehuber and von Piloty.  The standards of his works of art fluctuated and every so often he would produce a gem.  The first such treasure was his painting entitled Aunt Josephia which he completed around 1864 and now hangs in the Walter-Richartz Museum in Cologne.   He was praise for his clever depiction of the woman’s hands which added to the expression, mood and the characterisation of the sitter.  Whilst later at the Academy he taught art to the students but a lot of his free time was spent visiting the Alte Pinakothek to study the works of art of the Masters.  His favourite art-genre was the Baroque Period and the works of van Eyck, Rubens and de Vos but also he had an affinity with the great portraiture artists such as Frans Hals and Diego Velazquez.

In 1869 he produced his portrait of Frau Gedon, which hangs in the Neue Pinakothek in Munich.  This work of Leibl was shown at the Grosse International Kunstausstellung and Gustave Courbet, the French Realist painter judged it to be the best exhibit.  So impressed by it, Courbet invited Leibl to join him in Paris.  Whilst in the French capital Leibl spent much time studying the works  of his host Courbet and those of  Édouard Manet and these artists and their paintings inspired Leibl for the rest of his life.

Leibl only remained in Paris for a year as 1870 saw the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War that July.  Despite returning to Munich, Leibl continued to keep in touch with the French Art world and regularly submitted his own works to the Paris Salon.    In Munich he and his artist friends Carl Schuch, Wilhelm Trübner and Johann Sperl formed an artistic group known as the “Leibl Circle”.  This group’s passion for art was for art’s sake.  Their ethos was simple – art should be convincing exclusively through it formal qualities.  It was at the time of his return to Munich that Leibl started to experiment with etchings but his love of this artistic medium waned after a few years.  In 1873, at the age of twenty nine he left the city life of Munich and moved to Grassling, a countryside suburb of the city.  He enjoyed the country and village lifestyle and spent the rest of his life in various small villages around southern Bavaria and it was during those years that he painted the local peasantry in a sombre realistic style.  Leibl’s standing as an artist was principally dependent on the French critics, since his artistic reputation in Germany fell long before his standing went into decline in France.  Sadly, he never gained the acknowledgement he merited in his homeland .   Leibl died in 1900 in Wurzburg at the age of fifty-six.

My Daily Art Display today is Leibl’s oil on mahogany painting entitled Three Women in Church which took him almost three and a half years to complete and was finally exhibited in 1882, and now hangs in Hamburg’s Kunsthalle.  This was to be Leibl’s greatest masterpiece.  It is a haunting piece by an artist who, at the age of thirty eight, was at the zenith of his career and this work of art enhanced his reputation as one of Germany’s greatest Realist painters.

The three women are painted in great detail, despite, as he told his sister in a letter, the poor lighting inside the church.  The three women, all of different generations, are wearing their local costumes.  Look at their faces as they sit deep in prayer.  See how Leibl, by his attention to facial details, has portrayed their piousness.  They are all dressed in their “Sunday-best” clothes, looking their best for their church visitation.  This is a wonderful example of Realism painting depicting simple Bavarian country folk at prayer.  It emphasizes emotion and individuality and I hope you agree that this painting is a joy to behold.

Portrait of Francesco Giamberti San Gallo, Musician and Portrait of Giuliano da San Gallo, Architect by Piero di Cosimo

Yesterday I offered you a painting by Piero di Cosimo and most of My Daily Art Display was taken up with the story behind the painting and the painting itself without touching on the life of the artist.  Today, to make amends, I am giving you not just one painting by Cosimo but two portraitures ,but first, just a little about the artist himself.

Piero di Cosimo, also known as Piero di Lorenzo was born in Florence in 1462.  His father Lorenzo was a goldsmith.  He was apprenticed to the artist Cosimo Rosseli, his godfather and a painter of the Quattrocento, which takes in the artistic styles and cultural events of the 15th century. It was from Rosseli that Piero di Lorenzo derived his more common name “Cosimo”.   In 1481 Pope Sixtus summoned Rosseli to Rome where he was commissioned to decorate part of the Sistine Chapel.   Rosseli took Cosimo with him and he helped Rosseli with the fresco of the Sermon on the Mount, painting the background landscape.

In Rome Cosimo developed a love for the Renaissance painting genre completing many works appertaining to Greek Mythology, one of which was showcased yesterday in My Daily Art Display.   He is best known for his idiosyncratic paintings featuring fanciful mythological inventions in a world inhabited by satyr, centaurs and primitive men.  He was a superb painter of animals and a master of portraiture as one can see by today’s paintings.

Cosimo was an eccentric.  He was a solitary person, a loner, who preferred his own company.  He didn’t like people to see him at work and would lock himself away for days on end.  He was untidy and his studio rooms were dirty but he seemed oblivious to the chaotic circumstances of his life. He also had an irrational fear of fire and rarely cooked his food and he was terrified of thunderstorms.  Piero di Cosimo died of the plague in 1522, aged sixty.

Portrait of Francesco Giamberti San Gallo, Musician (1482)

My Daily Art Display today is paired portraits painted by Cosimo.  Portraits featuring two people at that time were usually male and female and often man and wife.   This set of paired portraits is a rare example of a portrait pair featuring two men, actually father and son, from different generations.    They are the only surviving portraits, which have been irrefutably accepted as being the work of Cosimo.   Both are wood panel paintings, one is entitled Portrait of Giuliano da San Gallo, Architect  (the son) and the other is Francesco Giamberti San Gallo, Musician  (the father), a cabinet maker, architect and musician in the service of Cosimo de Medici family.  The name “San Gallo” was added later to the family name “Giamberti”.  The name derived from the Porta San Gallo, one of the gates of the city of Florence, near which the Giamberti family had their house.

Portrait of Giuliano da San Gallo, Architect (1482)

 

Portrait of Giuliano da San Gallo, Architect  by Cosimo was completed in 1482.  This highly successful architect and master builder to Lorenzo de’ Medici, the Florentine ruler, stands at a balustrade, turned three-quarters towards the observer.  On the balustrade are the tools of his architectural trade, namely a compass and a quill.  In the background there is an undulating Tuscan landscape which abuts a mountain range.  His appearance is formal and dignified.  He looks self-confident and somewhat aloof.  Note the detail reproduction of the cloth on the upper part of his sleeve.  Note also the effort Cosimo has put in with regards his appearance, the wrinkles around the eyes and the silvery tints in his graying hair.

Francesco Giamberti San Gallo, Musician belongs, like the other portrait, belongs to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam but has been loaned out to the National Gallery in London.  The painting was completed circa 1482 and was commissioned by the son Giuliano on the death of his father in 1480, the intention being that it would form a portraiture pair with his own earlier portrait carried out by Cosimo.  The father is painted in profile which gives a clear outline of the face offset against the background.   This clear-cut portrait shows an old man with sunken cheeks.  He is formally dressed which makes some art historians believe that the father had already died and the portrait was based on the death mask of the father.  His face has signs of light gray stubble and we can see the veins on his temple and his ear lobe.  His ear is almost bent double by the weight of his hat.  As was the case in the son’s portrait the father is side on to a balustrade on which are the “tools of the father’s trade” – not the tools of a cabinet maker or architect but the “tools” of a musician – a sheet of music for Francesco Giamberti often composed music for the Medicis on special occasions.

The two paintings are outstanding in the way the faces contrast sharply against the background landscape and sky.  Note the silken cover on the balustrade of both portraits.  Observe how the pattern of the striped silken fabric seems to run continuously through both portraits.  It is thought that after Cosimo completed the portrait of the father, Francesco along with the tools of his trade he went back to the portrait of the son, Giuliano and added this ornamentation and his “tools of the trade” to his portrait in order to achieve a commonality between the two paintings .  So why did Giuliano commission the painting of his father?  Was it for him to remember him or is it as some art historians postulate that it was to enhance his own reputation by emphasising his own intellectual heritage and thus improving his own standing as an architect.  Maybe that is an unjustified and a cynical view of the situation.  You must decide !

A Satyr Mourning over a Nymph by Piero di Cosimo

A Satyr Mourning over a Nymph by Piero di Cosimo (c.1495)

Let me tell you a story.  It is about love and loss.  It is a tale by the Roman poet Ovid concerning two people, Cephalus, a beautiful youth and his beautiful young wife Procris.  The story goes…………………

Cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. He would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. Aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. But Cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly loved. Her name was Procris. She was a favourite of Diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and Procris gave these presents to her husband. Cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of Aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, “Go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if I am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again.”

Cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. Now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. Their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to Cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was Lelaps. No sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than the eye could follow him. If they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. Cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. The fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only air. Cephalus was about to use his javelin when, suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. The heavenly powers, who had given both, were not willing that either should conquer. In the very attitude of life and action they were turned to stone. So lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward.

Cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. He would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. Sometimes he would say aloud, “Come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me.” Someone passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to Procris, Cephalus’s wife. Love is credulous. Procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. Presently recovering, she said, “It cannot be true; I will not believe it unless I myself am a witness to it.” So she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when Cephalus went to hunt as usual. Then she stole out after him and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. Cephalus came, as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, “Come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how I love you! You make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful.” He was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposing it some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. A cry from his beloved Procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. He rushed to the place and found her bleeding and, with sinking strength, endeavouring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. Cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to staunch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. She opened her feeble eyes and forced herself to utter these few words: “I implore you, if you have ever loved me, if I have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious Breeze!” This disclosed the whole mystery: but alas! what advantage to disclose it now? She died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth.

Our featured artist today is the Italian Renaissance painter Piero di Cosimo and the work of art I am featuring is his panel painting based on the Ovid story of Procris and Cephalus and the subsequent 1486 play by Niccolò da Correggio.   The title of his unsigned painting which he completed around 1495 has often changed.  Since the nineteenth century it was known as Morte di Procri (The Death of Procris) but the National Gallery in London which is the home of the painting has rejected this title and since 1951 has catalogued it as either A Mythological Subject or A Satyr Mourning over a Nymph.

Notwithstanding the uncertainty of the title this painting, it was to become one of Cosimo’s most successful and popular works.  . It is a very long painting measuring 185cms in length and is only 65cms high which makes one believe that this could have been for the front of a cassone, a bridal chest, or as the subject of the painting is about love, maybe it was to hang in a bridal chamber.

Dogs and pelican

The painting shows a satyr mourning over the lifeless body of a young woman who has suffered wounds to her hand, wrist and throat.  At her feet sits a sad and mournful dog with its head slightly bowed.  Maybe Cosimo intended the dog to be an image of Laelaps but of course in Ovid’s tale, he had been turned into stone by Zeus before the death of Procris.  In the background one can see a river which could possibly represent one of the three rivers of the Underworld.   

At the water’s edge one can see other creatures – three more dogs and in the water a pelican can be seen with wings flapping.   Art historians point out the many irregularities with Cosimo’s painting, if it was supposed to be a retelling of the Ovid tale, as in that, there was no satyr , albeit he appears as the fateful annoyance in Correggio’s play.  It was the husband Cephalus that finds his dead wife and he is nowhere to be seen in the painting. Neither is the spear which killed Procris and the positioning of the wounds on her body do not coincide with what one would expect from a death by the spear’s penetration. 

Maybe this is just a lot of nit-picking and one should instead, concentrate on this amazing scene captured wonderfully by Cosimo.

 

Napoleon Visiting the Plague-Stricken at Jaffa by Antoine-Jean Gros

Napoleon Visiting the Plague-Stricken at Jaffa by Antoine-Jean Gros (1804)

Baron Antoine-Jean Gros, also known as Jean-Antoine Gros was born in Paris in 1771.  His early artistic tuition, from the age of six, was carried out by his father and mother, who were both painters of miniatures.  He soon proved himself to be a talented student and at the age of fourteen he went to work at the studio of the French Neoclassical painter, Jaques-Louis David, and at the same time carried on his art studies at the Collège des Quatre-Nations, also known as Collège Mazarin, after its founder Cardinal Mazarin.  Gros admired David’s work and their artistic relationship blossomed and developed and Gros became one of David’s favourite pupils.  Gros, after time, moved away from the strict purity of neo-classicism and developed a love for the more colourful works of Rubens and the great Venetian Masters.

In 1791 his father died and Jean-Antoine was left to his own resources.  In 1792, despite failing to win an award at the grand prix, he was recommended by the École des Beaux Arts to carry out some portraiture of members of the National Convention, the constitutional and legislative assembly, which at that time, ruled France. He became disillusioned with the way the country was being governed and a year later, in 1793, at the age of twenty two, left Paris and travelled to Italy.  He lived first in Genoa where he eked out a living by painting and selling miniatures.  It was whilst living in Genoa that he met Joséphine de Beauharnais, the wife of Napoleon Bonaparte, and through her met the great French leader himself.

In 1796, Gros was with Napoleon’s army when the French managed to outflank the Austrian troops at the Battle of Arcole and he witnessed Bonaparte planting his beloved French tricolour on the bridge they had just captured.  He encapsulated this incident on canvas, entitled Bonaparte at the pont d’Acole.  Bonaparte was ecstatic at the way Gros had portrayed him at the scene of this great victory and immediately made him inspecteur aux revues, which permitted Gros to follow the army of Bonaparte and pictorially display future victories and, at the same time, select the artistic spoils of war which merited being taken back to the Louvre.  His battlefield paintings were well received by Bonaparte.    They were painted skilfully and with great flamboyance and style even if his portrayals strayed occasionally from the actual happenings.  That notwithstanding, his art work was truly exceptional and he became one of the most honoured and respected French painters of that time.  His work was sort out by the great and the good of the time and besides Bonaparte he carried out commissions for great rulers such as Louis XVIII and Charles X.

After the defeat and exile of Napoleon the Bourbons Dynasty in the guise of Louis XVIII returned to rule France.  Amongst the list of proscribed former revolutionaries who deposed Louis XVII during the French Revolution and who were to be executed was the artist Jaques-Louis David.  For that reason David decided to flee France and go to Belgium.  He refused to return to his homeland even though Louis XVIII offered him a full pardon.  Jean-Antoine Gros took over David’s studio and endeavoured to work in a more Neoclassical style but his later work was never to receive the acclaim his Napoleonic paintings achieved.

In 1835 Jean-Antoine Gros committed suicide, his body being found on the shores of the River Seine.  A suicide note was found on his body, saying that “tired of life, and betrayed by last faculties which rendered it bearable, he resolved to end it”

My Daily Art Display today is Jean-Antoine’s painting entitled Napoleon Visiting the Plague-Stricken at Jaffa which he completed in 1804 and can now be found in the Louvre.  The painting was commissioned by Napoleon Bonaparte himself, who wanted Gros to paint a picture,  pictorially recounting his visit to his sick troops at the military hospital, which had been temporarily set up in the courtyard of a mosque in Jaffa (now part of Tel Aviv, Israel).  Napoleon’s bloody battle and the subsequent sack of the town of Jaffa occurred in 1799.  Unfortunately for the victorious French army, their victory was closely followed by an outbreak of the bubonic plague, which was to kill far more French soldiers than died in the actual battle.

In the background one can see the breached walls of Jaffa and an over-sized French tricolour fluttering in the wind.   A pall of smoke from fires covers the whole area.   In the left middle ground we see an Arab man handing out bread to the sick whilst his servant waits behind him holding the bread basket.  Behind them we see two large black men carrying off, what is probably a dead body on a stretcher.  In front of Napoleon is a semi naked sick man being tended by an Arab physician.  To the far right we can see a blind man grappling with the pillar as he tries to gain an audience with Bonaparte.  Across the foreground we see bodies of the dying men prostrate on the ground.

Napoleon touching the sick

In the painting, Bonaparte was to be shown as a fearless man with no concern for his own health.  Gros’s painting depicts Bonaparte as he confronted the pestilence during his visit to his men who had contracted the plague.  Historians argue about the reasoning behind Bonaparte’s visit.  Was he there to decide whether to abandon his dying troops in this hell-hole in Jaffa, as some historians would have us believe he discussed with his medical team the mercy-killing of his sick men or was his reason more noble and he was simply there to boost the morale of his sick men?  Whatever the reason was for Napoleon’s to visit his troops, Gros managed to portray Napoleon in this painting as a brave and selfless man.  Look carefully at the painting and see how Napoleon is depicted bravely touching the plague sore on one of his men (is this not similar to the biblical story of Jesus touching the leper?)    Standing behind Bonaparte is one of his officers covering his mouth for fear of infection.  Gros knew how to show Napoleon in a positive light and this contrast between Napoleon and his officer brought home to observers the courage of their leader.   It was for the way Gros was able to manipulate a situation so as to show Bonaparte in the best light that Bonaparte favoured him over all his artistic contemporaries.  This painting, the first Napoleonic masterpiece, was shown at the 1804 Salon de Paris around the time of Napoleon’s proclamation as emperor and his coronation and it received great acclaim and launched Gros’s career.

Gericault and Delacroix were Gros’s greatest admirers and Delacroix said of Gros:

“….Pictures by Gros have this power of projecting me into that spiritual state which I consider to be the strongest emotion that the art of painting can inspire…”