The Genius of Renaissance Art

(Above: Garden of Earthly Delights, right panel; below, Fetus in the Womb. Click painting for a larger view)

In the south, Leonardo da Vinci in particular emerged as a gifted genius, who dramatically affected the world with his prodigious art and his curiosity about the way things work. Leonardo (1452 - 1519) was a true "Renaissance Man," in every sense of the word. One work of Leonardo, most commonly referred to as the Fetus in the Womb, is particularly telling of his inquisitive brilliance, and the contributions he made to society. Interestingly, he is probably more famous as a painter, especially for his painting of Mona Lisa. But in fact, he finished few paintings and kept a huge collection of notebooks where he recorded his drawings and notes of his studies and ideas (Kleiner 583). Leonardo was fascinated by the human body, and kept at least 13,000 pages of notes and drawings, which fuse art and the precursor to modern science, "natural philosophy" (Kemp). In this drawing, not only is his skill as an artist apparent, but it crosses over into his skill as a scientist and student of life. Because he was considered a successful artist, and knowledge of human anatomy was very important at that time in Italy, Leonardo had access to human cadavers at several hospitals and was given permission to dissect these cadavers (Kemp). One aspect of the human body he was interested in was the mystery of human creation. Study Fetus in the Womb, and his meticulous attention to detail is very apparent. He has scribbled copious notes around the figure, and is apparently working out ideas of how the reproductive system works with smaller sketches around the main one. In Leonardo's words,

"[t]his work must commence with the conception of man, and must describe the nature of the womb, and how a baby lives in it, and in what degree it resides there, and the way it is enlivened and nourished, and its growth, and what interval there will be between one degree of growth and the next, and what it is which pushes it out of the mother and for what reason it sometimes comes out of its mother's womb before due time" (Kemp).

During the same time far to the north, in the Netherlands, Heironymus Bosch (ca. 1450 - 1516) was dazzling his world with dramatically different visions and his mysterious imagination. Very little is known about Bosch, which makes his art even more compelling. It is not even clear when he was actually born; his birth date is approximated based on the appearance of a painting assumed to be a self-portrait done toward the end of his life (Smith). One of his most famous and most compelling works is Garden of Earthly Delights, a three-part painting on hinged wooden panels that close to reveal another painting, of the world during creation. Unlike the true-to-life detail of Fetus in the Womb, the Garden is wild and surreal, with scenes and stories that possibly tell of the dilemmas of sin vs. morality. There is much debate over Bosch's intent amongst scholars, but he appears to have in the least a great imagination, and probably a sense of humor. On the outside or backside of the painting, the world, painted only in greens and grays, is thought to be a depiction of the third day of creation; a small figure of God appears at the top left corner. God appears to have the weight of the world on his mind; already he seems to know that the humans will sin. Inside, the painting is spectacular, colorful, and surreal. It appears intended to be viewed from left to right, starting with Adam meeting Eve on the left panel, an event or scene full of sin and immorality in the middle panel, and demons torturing sinners in hell in the right panel.
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Killer Art! Or, Just What Is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing?

Just What Is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing? by Richard Hamilton (1956)

The World at War and the Faces of Progress

During the first half of the twentieth century, events of the world occurred ever faster, globally and tumultuously; in particular, world powers fought in two devastating world wars and languished in the Great Depression in between. Globally, people witnessed a new set of -isms: Communism, Fascism, Nazism. The Industrial Revolution had taken off and was accelerating the world, at a faster and faster pace. Change was inevitable. By the second half of the century, the fast pace of progress seemed inevitable, and warring of the nations seemed perpetual. In the midst of such a challenging world, artists grappled with deep and disturbing issues and confusion, asking new questions. What, for example, was the meaning of art? What is art? What was the meaning of life itself? Artists began to see themselves as spiritual leaders of sorts, and felt compelled to make social commentary on the issues, change and devastation they saw all around them. Nature versus technology was a major theme, and later human rights and equality for all—especially for traditionally marginalized groups such as women and minorities; all of this in the face of the world's rapid change into ever-more mechanized modernity. In the face of the new reality—the new human condition—brought on by the these changes, and the devastation of the resultant wars, artists also sought to explore the meaning of permanence, sometimes in a hopeful manner, other times in despair.

Read the rest of my essay here: http://tinyurl.com/mdy67p

Or, Irregular Pearls of Influence

(Baroque) Art as Politics

Since the masses could not read, there could be no better way to feed them religion—Catholicism’s particular view of it—than through grand pictures depicting Biblical lessons and the dominance of Catholicism, figured the Church. One of the most interesting examples of art as propaganda for the Catholic Church is Caravaggio’s Conversion of Saint Paul, painted ca. 1603. In 1600, Caravaggio was commissioned to paint two pictures. One is Crucifixion of Saint Peter, a dramatic and unconventional work. The other is Paul’s Conversion, which hangs across the chapel from Saint Peter in the church of Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome. Also known as Conversion on the Way to Damascus or The Road to Damascus, this depiction of Paul’s conversion is by far the most intriguing of the two paintings. In this grand picture (it is over seven feet tall and almost six feet wide), Caravaggio portrays the moment described in the Bible, in the Book of Acts, when Paul (then Saul) falls to the ground in an epiphany from the Lord. The egocentric, Christian-hating Saul is on his way to Damascus, on a mission to witch-hunt Christians there. In Acts chapter 22, verses 6-7, Saul describes the moment: “About noon as I came near Damascus, suddenly a bright light from heaven flashed around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice say to me, ‘Saul! Saul! Why do you persecute me?’” This information is important to consider when studying Caravaggio’s representation of the event.

Click on the picture to view a larger version.

The rest of my essay can be found here:

The Era of Baroque Art @ http://aclnk.com/ar1813622

I Love Art

So, I have this prof, see, for my art history class. I'll call him Dr. D. He's crazy. He's passionate. He teaches art history, political science, and western civ. Go figure. I couldn't imagine taking his poli sci class. He speaks in riddles and metaphor, and when he wants you to write down a word he repeats it exactly three times, his voice rising one octave on each repetition. Like this: "art, art, ARRRT!" It's a lyrical melody I know by heart now. He gestures wildly with his arms, and beats on his chest when he wants to make a point. He gets so feverish as he flails that he knocks his papers or books, or whatever is in front of him, on the floor at least once every class period. I heard his textbooks only last one semester.

He gets in your face. He challenges you with weird questions. He gets so excited he spits. Bummer, because I like to sit in the front. One day he brought donuts for the class, two big greasy-pink boxes. At the end of the lecture he asked if anyone wanted the last three donuts: "I didn't spit on them, I promise," he said. "Well, only once." We roared, only because we knew it was true.

One of his favorite paintings is "The Scream," by Edvard Munch. He likes to open the text, hold it up in front of him, and smack the page where the painting he is discussing is located. One day he did that, he grabbed some poor coed's text off her desk in a moment of passion and, holding it to his chest, smacked the pages until they were crumpled. The poor girl. Yeah, he forgot to give her book back, too. Dr. D gets so excited, he yells, usually directly at one student. No one seems to know quite how to react, and yet he is loved--adored--by his groupies. He takes his groupies, anyone who wants to go, on field trips to see art exhibits and concerts. I'm signed up to go this Saturday.

No one took the three donuts.