My Kid Could Paint That

Edouard Manet, The Swallows, 1873

I'm thankful for the countryside. For any day that I can lie lazily lounging in the open air, as the wind rushes through fields of Kansas blue stem. I am thankful for the rusty-palette and quiet splendor of autumn, the biting chill of winter on my cheeks, the budding beauty of spring, the sweat of summer nights. I am thankful for the hot July night, two years back, when I saw thousands of fireflies flicker between the trees, like the willow-the-wisps of folklore, so that the night sky and the woods around became as one. For the afternoon I spent at the pumpkin patch on Holmes with my sister, laughing and racing through the corn maze, willingly losing ourselves in the winding aisles of crop. For the days before my license, when Michael, Adam, Will, Deko, Chris, and I would trek for an hour just to waste the day at the park or wander the aisles of Price Chopper. The nights that we would steal out of our homes to play Manhunt.

And with these last two, I've touched upon something that I had not considered when I set out writing this post: That these moments stand out because they are shared. I've enjoyed my share of lonely days wandering the hills and creek beds near my grandparents' home, and I cherish those evenings of self discovery. But those shared moments of glory - whether the wonder was lost on my company or not - are those that truly shine.

Just two weeks ago, Max and I fixed up bikes in the driveway of his new home, desperate to set off in search of adventure in the last hours of sunlight. Our repairs made, we mounted up and raced through his neighborhood, up sidewalks and down asphalt roads, past joggers and couples and children playing in yards. In that moment we were free. We smiled like we hadn't since the year began.

Gentlemen's Club
Courtesans and Seductresses Depicted in Art
Curated by Gabbi Fenaroli

Édouard Manet, Olympia, 1863

“So sweet and delicious do I become,
when I am in bed with a man
who, I sense, loves and enjoys me,
that the pleasure I bring excels all delight,
so the knot of love, however tight
it seemed before, is tied tighter still.”
- Veronica Franco

Gazing into the eyes of Manet’s Olympia, it becomes difficult to look away. The private moment Manet has created for the viewer does not go unnoticed. What shocked the masses at the 1865 Paris Salon was not her bare breasts and exposed body. They took offense to her provocative gaze, and the blatant fact that she was a courtesan. Some items pointing to her profession include the orchid in her hair, the black ribbon that contrasts her pale flesh, and the playful slipper falling of her foot. What sets Olympia apart from other paintings featuring a bare model, is that she is attainable. She exists in modern culture.

Paintings record history and depict events occurring in society, and prostitution was not a piece of history Parisians wanted recorded. In contrast with the painting that inspired Olympia, Sleeping Venus by Giorgione, Olympia appears more boyish than Venus.

Olympia undermines the female bargaining power of sex, since her job trades pleasure for money. Olympia threatens women’s power, especially in 19th-century Paris, because of what she offers to men - no strings attached, no guilt involved.

Berthe Morisot with Veil
Mother Liberty and the Seducer
Curated by Alex McDonald
A raspy croak sounds from the other side of the canvas. Manet doesn’t look up.

Be quiet, I don’t want to get this wrong. Manet looks up and drops his brush in shock.

Morisot’s mouth is sewed shut. Her eyes stare at Manet with an accusing gaze. A gaze that says all the words Morisot’s mouth cannot say.

Edouard Manet, Le Suicide, 1877

"Singer left his luggage in the middle of the station floor. Then he walked to the shop. He greeted the jeweler for whom he worked with a listless turn of his hand. When he went out again there was something heavy in his pocket. For a while he rambled with bent head along the streets. But the unrefracted brilliance of the sun, the humid heat, oppressed him. He returned to his room with swollen eyes and an aching head. After resting he drank a glass of iced coffee and smoked a cigarette. Then when he had washed the ash tray and the glass he brought out a pistol from his pocket and put a bullet in his chest." 
- Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Beautiful in its own morbidity, Manet's Le Suicide significantly departs from the delicate forms of his well known nudes, such as Olympia, and replaces them with a horrific, yet calm, image of self-destruction. The man's position on the edge of the bed, and his decision to fire into his gut as opposed to his head denote a reluctance in the act. However, his facial expression seems to be one of bewilderment, more so than pain or regret. He gazes up at the ceiling, towards the sky, and thus towards "heaven." These elements, combined with what is believed to be a painting of a monk on the back wall, and the placing of his body, have led some to believe that the piece represents the crucifixion of artists, with possible autobiographical sentiments from Manet.

Manet had a fondness for creating portraits of Jesus being accosted, such as in his piece Jesus Mocked by the Soldiers. His fascination with such scenes seemed to go hand in hand with the poor reviews that he received throughout his career. The constant flow of negative reviews and the stress from not meeting expectations led Manet to sympathize with to figures such as Christ, who took on unspeakable pain for others. Manet, some claim, seems to be suggesting through works such as Jesus Mocked by Soldiers and Le Suicide that the burden of the artist was similarly painful. John Singer, the deaf-mute protagonist from Carson McCullers masterpiece The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, feels this same burden when he is given care of the trust, hopes, and downfalls of four people in a Georgia town. In the end, the burden, as well as his loneliness lead him to take his own life. In much the same way, Manet seems to suggest that the burden on artists to create meaningful and popular works creates a weight that few can truly carry.
  

Edouard Manet, The Balcony, 1868-1869

Edouard Manet, Luncheon on the Grass, 1863

The painting, ironically, exudes a level of tranquility that seems unfit considering the subject matter. Manet juxtaposes the figures by clothing the men while scantily dressing the woman bathing and leaves the works foremost figure completely bare. Manet challenges the audience to judge the women, as if they are saying, “Yes, we are enjoying our perfectly peaceful picnic naked, what are you going to do about it?” By choosing a serene forest scene, Manet illustrates that the real abnormality comes from the clothed men. Indeed the nude women seem to belong more in this setting.