My Kid Could Paint That

Nicolas Poussin, Arcadian Shepherds, 1650

Rapping and writing. This piece by Nicolas Poussin highlights parts of the classic baroque style with new elements of storytelling. In the dead center of the composition are three shepherds and a woman. Only one shepherd looks at the woman, the others focused on the inscription on the stone. The written words “Et in Arcadia Ego” literally translate to “Even in Arcadia, I am there," with Arcadia being considered a Utopian land. Four figures see the words but search for the meaning, looking for their Utopia on a bleak hill amidst a mountainous landscape, Poussin's typical subject of choice.

Elements of myth do not alone shape the baroque style of Poussin’s early work. The newfound movement, pretentiously called dynamism, is prominent here with the draping of the cloths and placement of the figures. Bodies are angled and figures have a posture. Their leaning and body language draws viewers' eyes to the inscription on the stone, leading them to look for what the shepherds also seek. Also enhancing the sense of movement is the vertical tree trunk that contrasts the diagonal motion of the four bodies. One of Poussin’s introductory pieces, this work incorporates many classic baroque features and foreshadows the potential of the great artist to be.

Diego Velazquez, Toilet of Venus, 1647-51

While this Toilet of Venus lacks the grandeur of Boucher's Rococo-styled Venus (painted in 1703), it stands as an important representation of Velasquez work. It's subject matter was rare and quite bold as it went against what the Catholic Church found tasteful. For this reason, very few female nudes were done at the time of the Inquisition. This painting is Velasquez's only piece depicting a female nude that has survived to this date, but only barely. In 1914, The Toilet of Venus had suffered a malicious attack at its home in the National Gallery in London.

In the early twentieth century, England was undergoing a violent suffragette movement. One afternoon, one Mary Richardson entered the National Gallery, which was open to the public. She carried in with her a meat grinder. Mary Richardson approached the Velazquez and dealt several slashes. This attack was one of several on the National Gallery, which lead them to denying entry to women for a brief time. The message this group of militant Suffragists were attempting to get across reverberated through to the frames of these canvases. Mary hated the way men would ogle Venus' naked body before her viewers.

As a self-proclaimed art student, Mary Richardson made a statement over the power the gallery held; although, the act of slashing the painting was a dramatic form of revenge. Emmaline Pankhurst was an activist and major voice in the movement for women's voting rights. When the Conciliation Bill did not pass, which would have granted women's suffrage, Pankhurst lead a violent revolt where "women were thrown from one policeman to another who punched them with fists, striking the women in their faces,breasts and shoulders." She was then jailed for the chaos. Mary Richardson had destroyed the painting in protest of her imprisonment. "I have tried to destroy the picture of the most beautiful woman in mythological history as a protest against the Government for destroying Mrs Pankhurst, who is the most beautiful character in modern history."While all the damage was successfully restored, these attacks were horrific actions that jeopardized Velazquez's triumphant nude.

Landscape with Saint John on Patmos, Nicolas Poussin, 1640

Sometime near the end of his life, Saint John, exiled to the island of Patmos, authored the Book of Revelation, an apocalyptic text derived from God-given visions and a key element of the Christian religion. For the most part, Revelation doesn't contain a whole lot of hope. Seas turning to blood, plagues and pestilence, wars and famines, and destruction on excessive scales fill the majority of the text. Since Saint John appears to be writing something in this picture, I don't find it illogical to assume that he's transcribing his visions to parchment. One might assume that, after seeing such horrific visions, one would be, at the least, agitated, if not straight-up insane. However, John lounges comfortably among the serene ruins of Patmos, unbothered by the impending death of millions. Perhaps, because of his dedication to his faith, he believes he'll survive the end of the world unscathed. Perhaps John is mentally unstable. We shall never know.

Nicolas Poussin, although native to France, spent the majority of his artistic career studying in Italy, where he became familiar with classical Roman architecture, which consequently found its way into his artwork. Poussin crafts a painting that guides the eye through each layer. He begins by highlighting the foreground with the figure of Saint John wearing warm, bright colors and inserting bold, powerfully illustrated ruins rich with age. The two clusters of trees frame the middle ground as a river weaves its way through the landscape, leading the eye towards the architecture in the background. The gathering of marble is consequently upstaged by the majestic mountain that thrusts upward, which combines with the rest of the piece to create an irresistible forward movement and almost tangible depth.

Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes, 1612

Rembrandt Van Rijin, Self Portrait With Two Circles, 1669

Juan Sánchez Cotán, Quince, Cabbage, Melon, and Cucumber, 1602

First, an admission of my immature analysis of this painting. I decided that this was a murder-suicide scene, with the cucumber as the perpetrator and the melon its helpless victim. Upon viewing the gruesome scene, the quince and the cabbage hanged themselves in grief.

Moving on.

Cotán's piece is deceivingly simplistic. His subject matter is basic, just things one would find in a pantry on an average stone slab. This technique of using items that could be found in a bodega, or a pantry or tavern, is referred to as bodegón, an fancy way to describe a still-life painting depicting pantry items. 

But Cotán then broke away from this technique, his work exemplifying the emerging style of Tenebrism. Also called dramatic illumination, its invention is credited to Caravaggio but it had been used in less definitive ways by Durer. This illumination is produced by using pronounced chiaroscuro, with profound contrasts of dark and light becoming just as important as the subject matter they illuminate. 

The background is completely absent, as Cotán's subject matter taking up all of the space. Hanging on the side, the quince and the cabbage weigh down the other side of the piece so as to balance the stone wall. Details on the varied produce are deeply shadowed, with what seems like a harsh light shining upon them.The cucumber seems to extend from the piece, its dramatic shadow adding to its depth.

P.S. A quince is a pome-like fruit from a quince tree. It's closely related to apples and pears and is bright yellow when ripe. Apparently it's really good, and I'm going to get some as soon as possible.

Diego Velazquez Vulcan's Forge, 1630

Interrupting a steamy moment, Apollo pops in where Vulcan and his buddies are making "weapons of war." He drops by to let Vulcan know that his Mrs. is having an affair with Mars. Disturbed and embarrassed by the news, Vulcan stands to Apollo's left with his shoulders and face expressing his clear discomfort. Whether because a God just appeared in the room, or the personal nature of his visit, Velazquez also does a fantastic job of showing the shock of the others in the room. During a time where painting movement was the acclaimed talent, Velazquez paints a scene of shock and stillness that still embodies the Counter-Reformation trends.

Supposedly making armor for none other than Mars himself, Vulcan and his men are set up in a forge where Velazquez beautifully details the background with objects that would have been found in the smitheries and forges. Along with their steamy smelting, Velazquez adds, or rather doesn't add, a drapery with little covering over Vulcan and his barefoot works.  In contrast to this, Apollo appears in a longer, flowing covering and sandals. The God of Sun radiates with knowledge and power in the room, looking pretty full of himself with his hand position and facial expression. Where the minimally-covered men look in shock and wonder.

Vulcan, smoking hot metal in hand, looks terribly dangerous with his Caravaggio-like face, and strong body. The bodies of all of the smelters in the forge look healthy and muscular, but Vulcan's face looks troubled and quite angry, like he could strike out at Apollo with his burning weapon at any moment. Velazquez painted this scene with tension and curiosity and fully embraced the new characteristics of the Counter-Reformation with his style and composition.

Peter Paul Rubens, The Abduction of the Daughters of Leucippus, 1617-18

Officers and Subalterns of the St. Hadrian Civic Guard Company, Frans Hals, 1633

Welcome to Version 2.0 of Where's Waldo-- with a twist. Themed during the sixteen hundreds, this time, you're trying to find the unhappy, mustache-less man. (Hint: He's on the left side.) Or if you insist, you can also play Spot the Difference. Also look for the man that doesn't have his head slanted. (Hint: There's actually two.)

Painted by Frans Hals in 1633, Officers and Subalterns of the St. Hadrian Civic Guard Company has  trademark features that screams Frans Hals - the mustaches and suspiciously happy men. Also a characteristic trait of tilted heads. On a second look, one can find that in this painting especially, the vast majority of the happy-go-lucky mustache men have tilted heads as they stare directly at the viewer or giving the fish-eye at fellow company members.

Though his techniques in general were not original, such as changing eye contact and body turns or the alla-prima technique from the Italians, his methods of creating the look are well-praised. Hals also has an unusual, meticulous manner of painting his classic mustaches, for each hair seems alive and individual. Not only was his facial hair on his portrayals elaborate, the details of each outfit are particular as well. From the collar to the hundreds of wrinkles through out, each outfit is slightly different on each man- an attention to detail that not all artists have. (Take for example, Night Watch, by Rembrandt. The further away the men are from the center light, the more blurry and blob-like they are.)

And if there's anything that one should take away from this post, that is, on any painting, one can easily identify Frans Hals by the tilted heads, the mustache, the details, and the bilious, happy smiles.

And if you really couldn't find the answers to the games, the men are right under the American flag to the left. While you're re-looking, you might as well get yourself a new pair of spectacles.

Johannes Vermeer, View of Delft, 1660

This painting of Delft, Johannes Vermeer's hometown, shows a view from the south of the River Schie and the town itself behind. Not much bigger than a square meter, the intricate masterpiece shows immaculate care and attention to detail. A miniature clock on the Schiedam Gate proclaims the time to be just past seven o'clock, which the beautiful morning sky behind attests to. Cityscapes were uncommon at the time, especially of this quality. The abrupt cutoff of the buildings at the edge of the painting, while natural to someone accustomed to twenty-first century photography, would have been startling to a Rennaissance contemporary.

Possibly, to help plan his composition, Vermeer used a device called a camera obscura. The matter is hotly debated by art historians, since no concrete evidence for the theory exists other than the attention to detail in his paintings. Rather than use a series of lenses to focus light, a camera obscura uses a pinhole to project an image of its surroundings onto a screen. The image comes through upside-down, but with all other elements preserved. It can then be traced and used as a reference. Modified camera obscuras, which project light onto photographic paper, are still in use today by extra-pretentious photographers who like the blurred, indistinct effect and long exposure times.

To perfectly recreate the colors and texture, Vermeer actually mixed sand into his paint in areas. The reflections in the water are gorgeous, with minute specks of light done in almost-pointilist style. However, the View of Delft is not perfectly photorealistic. Vermeer arranged the buildings for a better composition, spreading them out and shortening many of the narrow towers. The effect of the reflections in the water and the gap in the clouds directly above pushes the viewer's eye inward and upward. In the end, the piece is a stunning memorial to Vermeer's home town, saluting the rich history of the buildings and providing a look into history - not as a perfectly realistic photograph, but an idealized portrait.