Art appreciation hour.

Boreas by Waterhouse:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f5/Boreas.jpg

I'm a fan of pre raphaelite art in general.

I love Duchamp and this is my favorite piece in the Philadelphia museum of art:

http://artchecker.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/kachur8-26-09-3.jpg

Étant Donnés
That Duchamp picture is really cool.

I love Waterhouse. I remember when I found The Soul of the Rose in college and bought/framed it for my mother for Christmas that year.
She hung it in her bedroom, which was no small compliment because she was the sort of woman who changed the house decor all the time.

http://www.illusionsgallery.com/rose-L.gif
 
That Duchamp picture is really cool.

I love Waterhouse. I remember when I found The Soul of the Rose in college and bought/framed it for my mother for Christmas that year.
She hung it in her bedroom, which was no small compliment because she was the sort of woman who changed the house decor all the time.

http://www.illusionsgallery.com/rose-L.gif

It's neat how it's set up. There's a huge set of doors and you can only see the painting through a peephole. It speaks to the voyeur in me.

I have a few of his prints - I like the style, how women are portrayed in the paintings. What a wonderful gift. :rose:
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/57/L%27Embarquement_pour_Cythere%2C_by_Antoine_Watteau%2C_from_C2RMF_retouched.jpg/1280px-L%27Embarquement_pour_Cythere%2C_by_Antoine_Watteau%2C_from_C2RMF_retouched.jpg

(A ridiculously large version, ~20,000 by 13,000 pixels, is available here.)

Here we have the Louvre version of Jean-Antoine Watteau's Embarkation for Cythera, completed in 1717 for his entry into the Royal Academy. At that time, it was a difficult piece to classify, fitting into none of the accepted genres of painting¹, and an entirely new academic genre, fête galante, was invented for it. The Embarkation depicts a group of lovers on pilgrimage to the isle of Cythera, sacred to Aphrodite and place of her birth, before sailing upon a shell to Cyprus, in Greek mythology. There is perhaps a darker quality than initially appears; though at first glance a celebration of the delights of love, we might note that the pilgrims are, quite significantly, leaving, being led away by amorini to depart, it would seem, from Cythera. It's a time not of union but of parting; a bittersweet reminder of the passing of the pleasures of our world, of both joy and sadness; it is a depiction of love in its final bloom, in its twilight, before fading and departing.

¹ Those genres were, in increasing order of prestige:
Still-life; animals; landscapes; genre painting, meaning scenes of everyday life; portraiture; and history painting, meaning elaborate depictions of religious, historical, or mythological scenes
 
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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/27/Sesshu_-_Haboku-Sansui.jpg/662px-Sesshu_-_Haboku-Sansui.jpg

(An enormous version, ~7,000 by 11,000 pixels, is available here)

Here we have a landscape from 1495 by the Japanese painter Sesshu Toyo. Done in the sumi-e ink and wash medium, this piece is strongly within the East Asian landscape tradition, derived from the Chinese shan-shui genre (literally mountain-water), which emphasises capturing the feeling and emotional resonance of a place over simple verisimilitude—in many ways, prefiguring the Impressionists, who came to be heavily influenced by East Asian art in time (cf. Japonisme). That ideal was brought to perhaps its greatest extent with the highly abstracted haboku technique seen here, of which Sesshu Toyo was a pioneering figure; rather than carefully detailed depictions of subjects, we seen dark and light splashes of ink merely suggesting figures of trees and in the distance faint traces of mountains, giving an impression of a landscape shrouded in mist.
 
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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/67/Conversion_on_the_Way_to_Damascus-Caravaggio_%28c.1600-1%29.jpg/779px-Conversion_on_the_Way_to_Damascus-Caravaggio_%28c.1600-1%29.jpg

(A much larger version is available here)

Here we have the Conversion on the Road to Damascus by Caravaggio (1601), a strikingly innovative depiction of interaction between mankind and Divinity. All of the hallmarks of Caravaggio's style, the chiaroscuro, the colouring, those quintessential aspects of Tenebrism, feature in this work—one which departs dramatically from more traditional depictions of God in Western painting. Rather than depicting a radiant haloed Christ between perfectly parted clouds shining down upon a meticulous and artificially posed Paul, looking up in reverence, pious and repentant—like might be seen in a Renaissance or Mediæval painting of Paul's conversion—Caravaggio chooses to depict the scene both more overwhelmingly and yet more subtly—Paul overtaken by the light of God surrounded by the darkness of disbelief. In his treatment, we have emphasis upon humanity, upon Paul and his experience, suffusing the whole of the scene with an emotional immediacy beyond that of typical stately portrayal of the Divine.
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6f/Yun_Shouping%2C_Peonies.jpg/1024px-Yun_Shouping%2C_Peonies.jpg

(A somewhat larger image is available here.)

Here we have a painting of peonies by the Qing dynasty painter Yun Shouping dating from the mid-to-late 17th century. In contrast to Western art, where, so far as painting was concerned, still-life was considered the lowest form of fine art, Chinese art greatly valued depictions of plants and the genre of Bird-and-Flower painting was highly praised within Chinese culture. Peonies were a particular favourite flower, not only in painting but in poetry, too—they were known as "the king of flowers". In this particular work, each blossom is a different colour and each is in a different pose, giving a complete sense of the fundamental essence of peony. Typical of his œuvre, we see use of the so-called "boneless" technique—Yun Shouping being recognised as one of its greatest practitioners—which was perhaps first explored in full during the early Northern Song dynasty; in this method, colour is central rather than line. Instead of creating a detailed ink drawing of the subject to be coloured, pure washes of colour are used without outlines to form the image.
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2b/The_Enchanted_Garden_of_Messer_Ansaldo_by_Marie_Spartali_Stillman_%281889%29.jpg

Here we have The Enchanted Garden of Messer Ansaldo by the Pre-Raphaelite painter Marie Spartali Stillman. Taken from a tale from Boccaccio's Decameron, the painting depicts Messer Ansaldo showing Madonna Dianora his magickal garden, which he built to prove his love for her (being already married, and trying to dissuade him, she had told him that she could only return his affections if he built a garden which remained in bloom in winter). True to the style of the Pre-Raphaelites, this watercolour and goauche painting attempts to capture, not only in its subject matter, but in its style and technique, the artistic and spiritual qualities of the Middle Ages. Hence we see the use of bright colours, reminiscent of the pure hues used in Mediæval art (which predominantly used egg tempera, maintaining its colour over time far better than oils, but incapable of being blended or applied thickly the way oils can), devoid of darkening agents and heavy shadows, hearkening back to Western art before Raphael (who by then had become the model for artists in the academic tradition).
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/67/Conversion_on_the_Way_to_Damascus-Caravaggio_%28c.1600-1%29.jpg/779px-Conversion_on_the_Way_to_Damascus-Caravaggio_%28c.1600-1%29.jpg

(A much larger version is available here)

Here we have the Conversion on the Road to Damascus by Caravaggio (1601), a strikingly innovative depiction of interaction between mankind and Divinity. All of the hallmarks of Caravaggio's style, the chiaroscuro, the colouring, those quintessential aspects of Tenebrism, feature in this work—one which departs dramatically from more traditional depictions of God in Western painting. Rather than depicting a radiant haloed Christ between perfectly parted clouds shining down upon a meticulous and artificially posed Paul, looking up in reverence, pious and repentant—like might be seen in a Renaissance or Mediæval painting of Paul's conversion—Caravaggio chooses to depict the scene both more overwhelmingly and yet more subtly—Paul overtaken by the light of God surrounded by the darkness of disbelief. In his treatment, we have emphasis upon humanity, upon Paul and his experience, suffusing the whole of the scene with an emotional immediacy beyond that of typical stately portrayal of the Divine.

thankyou for posting this, E. caravaggio's work does something for me so many others fail to.
 
thankyou for posting this, E. caravaggio's work does something for me so many others fail to.

You are very welcome.

He is one who I think appeals to both head and heart; I can both think and feel he's brilliant, which unfortunately isn't always true with artists of all sorts.
 
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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/35/Self-portrait_in_a_Straw_Hat_by_Elisabeth-Louise_Vigée-Lebrun.jpg/737px-Self-portrait_in_a_Straw_Hat_by_Elisabeth-Louise_Vigée-Lebrun.jpg

(A larger image is available here.)

Here we have a self-portrait by Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, one of the premier portrait artists of the late 18th-early 19th century, and one time favoured painter of Marie Antoinette. Like many self-portraits, this one depicts her with the tools of an artist, a comment upon its nature as art depicting its own creator—artist as personification of art. Moreover, this particular self-portrait was deliberately styled after this portrait of Susanna Lunden by Rubens [Susanna was Hélène Fourment's sister and hence Rubens's sister-in-law], which had captured Vigée-Lebrun's imagination. She was particularly inspired by the effect of lighting in Ruben's portrait and wished to capture much the same sense in her own; nevertheless, her style, of course, shows the hallmarks of its age, with the softness of its colours and that wispiness so characteristic of 18th century painting. Although it is in truth highly planned and managed, the portrait exudes a certain air of spontaneity; it is artificial, but it presents itself with a sense of naturalness.
 
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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/35/Portrait_du_Fayoum_01a.JPG/768px-Portrait_du_Fayoum_01a.JPG

(A larger picture is available here.)

Here we have one of the Fayum mummy portraits, from Severan period Roman Egypt (earliest 3rd century—you can tell their age by hairstyle). Created variously in encaustic and tempera on wooden panels, the 900+ Fayum portraits constitute by far the largest collection of extant Classical artwork, and the only major collection of Greco-Roman panel paintings to survive; being effectively unique, this makes their historical place difficult to judge. Though specific portraits painted to accompany the deceased, the artists creating the Fayum portraits worked within conventions and certain overall forms, which were fitted to the subject through changes in smaller details. This particular portrait, like most of the higher quality works, is done in encaustic, a medium which uses melted wax with pigments, allowing for a degree of lifelikeness and depth similar to oils, though with extremely limited working time; although standard in Greek and Roman painting, and used in some early Christian Icons, encaustic largely died out as a medium in the early Middle Ages.
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/35/Portrait_du_Fayoum_01a.JPG/768px-Portrait_du_Fayoum_01a.JPG

(A larger picture is available here.)

Here we have one of the Fayum mummy portraits, from Severan period Roman Egypt (earliest 3rd century—you can tell their age by hairstyle). Created variously in encaustic and tempera on wooden panels, the 900+ Fayum portraits constitute by far the largest collection of extant Classical artwork, and the only major collection of Greco-Roman panel paintings to survive; being effectively unique, this makes their historical place difficult to judge. Though specific portraits painted to accompany the deceased, the artists creating the Fayum portraits worked within conventions and certain overall forms, which were fitted to the subject through changes in smaller details. This particular portrait, like most of the higher quality works, is done in encaustic, a medium which uses melted wax with pigments, allowing for a degree of lifelikeness and depth similar to oils, though with extremely limited working time; although standard in Greek and Roman painting, and used in some early Christian Icons, encaustic largely died out as a medium in the early Middle Ages.

Fayum mummy portraits averaged:

https://griffonagedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/fayum-faces-averaged.jpg

Should give a pretty good idea of what the typical Egyptian of the area looked like at that time.
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/53/Domenico_ghirlandaio%2C_ritratto_di_nonno_con_nipote.jpg/751px-Domenico_ghirlandaio%2C_ritratto_di_nonno_con_nipote.jpg

Here we have a well-known portrait of an Old Man and His Grandson by Domenico Ghirlandaio from ca. 1490. Executed in tempera on wooden panel, this portrait is the only known portrait of its era depicting two such sitters. Dressed in brilliant red clothing, the subjects are members of the the Florentine patriciate, traditionally identified as a grandfather and grandson, but perhaps an uncle and nephew. It is clear, certainly, that there is a close relationship between them and the scene has a gentle air. The old man's appearance, with a bulbous nose indicative of rhinophyma—often associated with alcoholism—contrasts dramatically with that of the child. Though perhaps merely a commitment to realism on the part of Ghirlandaio, it is more likely that this contrast is intended to have symbolic significance; it is an allegory of the fundamental truth of mortality, from the unmarred innocence of youth to the slow decay of age.
 
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Can we get an art museum lit-together going? That would be bad ass.
 
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fb/La_Parnasse%2C_by_Andrea_Mantegna%2C_from_C2RMF_retouched.jpg/1241px-La_Parnasse%2C_by_Andrea_Mantegna%2C_from_C2RMF_retouched.jpg

(A wholly and completely unnecessarily large version, ~15,500 by 13,000 pixels, is available here.)

Here we have The Parnassus by Andrea Mantegna, completed in 1497. Executed in tempera on canvas, this piece was created toward the very end of that medium's commonness in Western art (though it remains standard for Orthodox icon painting). Part of a series of paintings commissioned of Mantegna by Isabella d'Este, Duchess of Mantua, the Parnassus depicts an elaborate arrangement of figures from Greek and Roman mythology: in the centre at the top we see Venus and Mars, on the far right we see Mercury with Pegasus, on the left Apollo with his lyre, the Muses dancing in their midst—and above Apollo on the rocks we see Vulcan at his forge, angrily reaching toward the adulterous lovers, but watched by Cupid. Representing both the importance of the arts and of the artist's patron, the scene features complex allegory, with Venus and Mars likely standing for the Duke and Duchess and the work, as a whole, extolling the Duchess's artistic patronage and the harmony of their reign.
 
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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/65/Hasegawa_Tohaku%2C_Pine_Trees.jpg/1280px-Hasegawa_Tohaku%2C_Pine_Trees.jpg

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0c/Pine_Trees.jpg/1280px-Pine_Trees.jpg

(Extremely large versions, ~17,000 by 8000, are available here and here.)

Here we have an ink painting (sumi-e) of pine trees on a pair of folding screens painted by the Azuchi-Momoyama period painter Hasegawa Tohaku, sometime in the mid-to-late 16th century. These enigmatic master works are perfectly representative of so many fundamental elements found within Japanese painting, incorporating both native Japanese thematic traditions and imported Chinese ideals. Their use of negative space is characteristic of the style, and moreover, like this earlier piece by Sesshu Toyo, in them Hasegawa prefers to suggest rather than detail the scene's elements—they, too, depict a misty pine forest at the foot of distant mountains, a quintessential scene of Japanese nature. The emptiness throughout the painting shapes our sense of the image as a whole, its nothingness molds our view of the painted figures; these blank spaces are far from wasted space, of which the painting has none. As a painting, it contains only what is necessary to see what is to be seen; but, moreover, its emptiness is as essential to what we feel as its ink.
 
It's neat how it's set up. There's a huge set of doors and you can only see the painting through a peephole. It speaks to the voyeur in me.

I have a few of his prints - I like the style, how women are portrayed in the paintings. What a wonderful gift. :rose:
Sounds fascinating! I never knew that.

Can we get an art museum lit-together going? That would be bad ass.
That would be amazing. NN and I have been wanting to hit up the Art Institute in Chicago but haven't made it up there yet. Well, I haven't. He grew up near there so he's been.

I feel really cheated by my art history classes. I went into college with a fine arts major and then when I realized they wanted their majors to open a vein for the department, I bowed out and went to English instead (always my first love anyway). But I still needed to take two rounds of art history in order to graduate and the prof they had teaching was TERRIBLE. Spiteful, vindictive, and completely uninteresting. I always wish I'd had a different experience. (Maybe I should stalk Arte's classes.)
 
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