My Kid Could Paint That

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.

Jean Auguste Ingres, Grande Odalisque, 1814

"Women are like tricks by sleight of hand,

Gentlemen’s Club

Francisco Goya, The Naked Maja, 1797

“A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the town,
not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away”
-William Wycherley

Not only do courtesans house secrets, but their identities also remain in question. The word maja describes someone of lower class society in France who are set apart by their cheeky behavior. Francisco Goya spares no detail to the imagination in his 1797 painting The Naked Maja. The painting along with its clothed twin belonged to Prime Minister Manuel de Godoy, Duke of Aludia.

Speculation arose that this curvaceous model was Maria Cayentana de Silva, 13th duchess of Alba. While others argue that Godoy’s mistress, Josefa de Tudo, was the model. Josefa, commonly known as Pepita, was Godoy’s lover by the age of eleven. Although Godoy went onto marry another woman, the nature of Peptia and his relationship remained the same. At the age of 16, she gave birth to his son, Manuel. Again in 1807, Godoy fathered another child with Pepita. Shortly after Goya painted The Naked Maja, the Spanish Inquisition questioned Goya about who commissioned the painting. Goya kept his lips sealed and never revealed who he had painted for.

The woman appears to have pearly skin that sets her apart from the dark background and lace bedding. She has an air of youth and innocence about her. The viewer feels like they have ruined a surprise. The woman lays waiting for her lover, fully embracing her status as a sexual object. She does not attempt to hide her naked body, on the contrary she ushers the viewer to come closer.

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

Giorgione, Sleeping Venus, 1510

“Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.”
- William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis

The oldest profession in the world empowers and disadvantages women. In society they are pariahs, the object of feminine jealousy and disgust. Courtesans and seductresses leave men and woman at a loss for words, as they use their bodies as means to manipulate men in the bedroom and viewers in art. They capture the eyes of anyone that walks by. The beauty of each painting lies in its simplicity, the subtleness that comes with being a courtesan. The secrets they each hold on their clientele.

Men are drawn to women they cannot posses. Venus remains unobtainable because of her ranks as a goddess. The painting Sleeping Venus by Giorgione underlines the fact Venus, although a fantasy to many men, will never be available to humans. The painting's rich colors revel us in heavenly light. Venus sleeps elegantly while stretched out on a bed on luxurious fabrics. Her body is effortlessly poised while she lies stark naked. Venus reclines alone, as though to say no one is deserving of her company. The only civilization remains in the background forever separated from Venus and her glory.

Her body twists and turns with her voluptuous curves. She glows with signs of fertility. Venus represents the mother of the Roman people, someone held in great acclaim. Although she does take male lovers, she only sleeps with them for a period and returns later to give them a child. Unlike Olympia, there are rules to sleeping with Venus. Sleeping with her results in procreation and responsibility. Venus draws men in with her maternal body and sultry actions. She does not need to stare at the viewer to capture their attention. Her body language and confidence stops viewers in their tracks. Venus offers sex and pleasure, yet her offers come at the cost of commitment.

Umbrellas
Umbrella and Bowler
Curated by Max Cantu-Lima

Umbrellas

Rene Magritte, Hegel's Holiday, 1958

Umbrellas 

Jack Vettriano, The Singing Butler, 1992

Umbrellas

Claude Monet, Man With Umbrella, 1868

Umbrellas
Curated by Max Cantu-Lima

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Umbrellas, 1880-1886

Umbrellas

Gustave Caillebott, Paris Street; Rainy Day, 1877

Umbrellas
Curated by Max Cantu-Lima

Jean-Honore Fragonard, Confession of Love, 1771

They appear throughout history in royalty and high society. Umbrellas, also known as parasols, shield people from rain, sleet, and sun. Although umbrellas can be quite the intrusion. As for our two love birds in Jean-Honore Fragonard's Confession of Love, part of a romantic series of paintings, do not seem to need this sunshade. The parasol sits idly to the right of the canvas, providing no shelter of any kind to the lovers. Unusually placed right? Think again. By analyzing the strange gap within the trees, the umbrella turns to a phallic symbol. The wide space between the trees... well, no need to say more.

This parasol represents the level of love this couple seems to be experiencing. Fragonard paints of a aristocratic youth and how sexually driven they are. Youth drives the two lovers. They are experiencing each other for the first time and are unable to contain their emotions. Their lives full of pleasures, not having to deal with the cruel struggle of life, which the majority of the French population were experiencing during the 18th century. Umbrellas, while incredibly handy if caught in the rain, can also help bring to life the sexual urges of young lovers.

Curated by Chase Coble  

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Marcella, 1909-1910

"I hope that we can create a fruitful new school and convince many new friends of the value of our efforts."  - Ernst Ludwig Kirchner

The above describes the joint-efforts of Ernst Kirchner and three other German artists who created the Art movement known as Die Brücke (The Bridge). The movement's goal was to coerce artists to live according to the "savage" lifestyle - free from all urban and otherwise modern influence. 

Freedom being the chief principle of the Die Brücke, the artists also wished to embrace sexual freedom. Determining that the people of Malaysia and Polynesia were to be considered "primitive," the artist believed them also to be openly promiscuous - largely a misinterpretation. The reductionist interpretation these artists assumed gave rise to the number of Asian women depicted in Die Brücke paintings.

Kirchner's Marcella would unequivocally fall under the aforementioned category. His subject, presumably Marcella, sits both cross-armed and legged atop a van Gogh reminiscent seat-cover. Observe the "discordant hues." Kirchner gives the pre-pubescent girl many markers for innocence: the school ribbon, her flattened chest, and large benevolent eyes, which opposes the nature of her profession - prostitution. This feeling of innocence breaks down further with the extremely suggestive nature of the painting. Under Kirchner's pretense of "studying the nude in all its simplicity," we have little basis to believe that this subject-painter relationship was strictly fantasy.

Curated by Chase Coble 

Bernini, The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, 1647-52

Arguably one of Bernini’s most controversial sculptures, The Ecstasy of St. Teresa depicts the nun’s spiritual vision. St. Teresa recounts her religious vision as distinctly physical and quite sexual.

Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in bodily form.... He was not tall but short, and very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire.... In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share.
I wonder what her father would have thought? Bernini plays upon her words and her story, and depicts an interesting congress. The artist produces a work that forces the viewer to witness the Saint’s sexuality and spirituality. But which of the two are more apparent? Just like in the Saint’s recounting of her vision, one finds difficulty in discerning which of the two themes has a sharper tone. I’ll leave that question to the individual. 

Above the limp Saint an angel readies his spear to penetrate. Teresa’s mouth is agape, moaning. Her arms fall to the ground while her legs are slightly opened. She is totally vulnerable. Her ecstasy is made all the more evident by the sculptor’s inclusion of rays of light beaming down from the heavens. These rays ask the Saint to savor her ecstasy and blessing – and she does.

Curated by Chase Coble 

Curated by Chase Coble 

Art as the Erotic
Edouard Manet’s Dejeuner sur l'herbe was immediately met with crticism by the Salon, and would in fact become the focal point of the heavily criticized Salon des Refuses in 1863. But why was this painting met with such tribulation and given the moniker “taboo”? It was sexually confrontational.

Manet ascribed the painting’s composition to a now lost tapestry by the master Raphael – two men gathered next to a naked Venus. Yet, we aren’t observing a Venus, which was Manet’s exquisite subversion. We find our subversion in the nakedness of the model at the left foreground, mind the distinction between naked and nude. She is a woman, one that you could find walking the streets in Paris, and she is looking directly at us. It is her confrontational gaze that offers us a matter-of-fact description about her sexual desire. And, it begs the question, not what, but who is for lunch?

Art as the Erotic
How We Observe Sex in Art
Curated by Chase Coble

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Madame Recamier, David, 1800.

Under a facade of white wraps and virginal beauty comes the story of Madame Recamier - the headstrong dame caught up in the downfall of her royalist family. At a young age, Recamier's father forced her to marry a man of his age in the interest of saving the family money after the French Revolution. But this hardly resolved the issue. When her beau lost the money with the rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, the family name was the only remnant of glory. But this hardly put Recamier in a position of glory. After avoiding demands to serve as a lady in waiting for the new elite, Madame Recamier and her now-elderly husband were expelled from France by Napoleon himself. After her husband's continuous refusal to allow her to marry again for money, Recamier returned to France and hid away in a convent until her death from cholera.

Though her family's royalist ties and dwindling bank accounts quickly made Madame Recamier a pariah in France, it was her virginal appearance that ultimately excluded her from prominent socialite circles. Rumors flourished about Recamier's suspicious marriage to a much older man, including that she was allergic to sexual encounters or that she was infertile. Thus, when David chose to paint Madame Recamier in 1800 (despite the family's commission of another artist), her angelic attire and awkwardly positioned body displayed this quality. Though many women of the time used portraits to confirm their status, many viewed Recamier's as a disgrace to biology and her family, for she was now clearly portrayed as a completely unsexualized being. The position outcome? The style of seat upon which Recamier lays in David's painting was quickly renamed as "the Recamier."

Berthe Morisot, Psyche, 1876

Each day we constant live in fear. Not the common sense of fear, but rather an underlying desire to be appreciated and included in the goings on of our surroundings. Our subconscious thrives on encounters with the people surround us, and the phobia of exclusion constantly dictates what actions we perform next. Berthe Morisot recognized this desire among women - according to European society, a woman must be thin, well-dressed, and perfectly innocent, a trifecta than drove women insane as they tried to conform to the expected perfection.

Thus, Morisot's masterpiece illustrates the hopelessness of this conformity. We see a young girl cinching the waist of her perfectly tailored dress, standing awkwardly in her heeled shoes as she stares longingly into the mirror. The image of perfection seems haunting, for though the girl appears affluent and well-coifed, the expression of her eyes shows that she feels subpar, unable to be the emblem of beauty and grace. The patterns of the surrounding room perpetuate this entrapment - the young girl cannot escape the demanding trends of her time. The mirror presents Morisot's greatest critique of her surroundings. The young girl appears faceless, undifferentiated from the world around her. She has conformed to the blasé culture that surrounds her.

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Francois Boucher, Madame de Pompadour, 1750.

Madame de Pompadour had all a rich, French woman could desire - an education, a fabulous wardrobe, close friendships with Voltaire and other prominent philosophes, and legendary poise. So it was no surprise when Louis XV honored her with the spot as his favorite mistress. Yet with this position came unconquerable amounts of hatred and scorn for poor Pompadour. Whether from jealousy or pure disgust, wealthy, impoverished, and royal Frenchmen shunned Louis' mistress even more than the indulgent princess that took her place.

Thus, when Louis XV commissioned Boucher, one of France's most esteemed portrait artists of the Rococo period, to illustrate Pompadour's grandiose life, the sound of dropping jaws rang across France. Now, Pompadour had permeated nearly all creative stimulation within the nation. With the painters and philosophers bowing at her feet, Madame de Pompadour became the emblem of French culture across Europe. Though the French people were embarrassed by this representation, Madame de Pompadour's portrait ushered in a new breed of female - informed, pampered, and respected by men.

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Frida Kahlo, Self Portrait with a Thorn Necklace,1940

Self Portrait with a Thorn Necklace epitomizes all we have come to know about Frida Kahlo - bold, bright colors, close ties to nature, a stolid expression, and of course the signature unibrow. Like many of her paintings, Self Portrait with a Thorn Necklace portrays the many hardships she experienced throughout her life - an abusive marriage to artist Diego Rivera, numerous bouts with polio, a traumatic car accident that led to multiple miscarriages, and a constant questioning of her sexuality - through the use of subtle natural symbols.

Despite the common notion of nature as freeing, Frida Kahlo illustrates herself as trapped and punished by these forces. The leaves surrounding her head seem uniform, showing the futility in trying to find newness. The animals behind her at first appear like guardians, but at a closer glance, they seem to be leeching off of Kahlo, adding an air of hopelessness to the painting. The thorn necklace is a direct allusion to the execution of Christ, implying that the sins of her country are unforgivable. Finally, the dead hummingbird hanged around her neck shows the ultimate demise of happiness. Despite the painting's bright colors and initial liveliness, Self Portrait with a Thorn Necklace clearly exhibits Kahlo's depression.

John Singer Sargent, Madame X,  1884

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Amelie Gautreau was the epitome of Parisian society of the nineteenth century - designer gowns, a wealthy spouse, regular exotic vacations, and ties to the artistic community. Yet every person worth talking about at the time had a secret life other than her appearance, chock-full of affairs unknown to the public eye. Amelie was no exception to this, and for years she climbed the social ladder of Paris, one bed at a time. Her porcelain skin and unique features made Amelie the epitome of beauty, grace, and affluence that each woman coveted. Yet with the slip of a single strap, Amelie Gautreau became the shunned figure known as Madame X.

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Girl with a Pearl Earring, Johannes Vermeer, 1667

There's something fishy that happens to a piece of artwork when it surpasses superstardom. Let's use Ferris Bueller's Day Off as an example. Despite its clever pranks and existential advice, there's always this strange feeling of boredom when someone suggests to watch it. Not because it isn't good, but because it's overused. It's a common phenomenon with things like Coldplay, McDonald's hamburgers, and 30 Rock. The "cult following" of once-good things turns off any desire to enjoy them. The same thing happens with art. For example, the fact that Van Gogh's Starry Night pops up on every art-related greeting card or notebook cover makes any painting connoisseur moderately nauseous. Not because the painting lacks innovation and skill, but because somehow its mass production ruins it. Similarly, Johannes Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring has been deemed banal by its Hollywood fame.

Though Girl with a Pearl Earring gained its fame from a fictional love story between the artist and its subject, that doesn't mean we, as viewers, should discount the painting's merit. With the boldness of color and complex emotion, Vermeer's masterpiece deserves a place in the Dutch Golden Age's hall of fame. Girl with the Pearl Earring exemplifies the cunning portraiture of later movements too, clearly influencing the realism of the early nineteenth century. All in all, the worthiness of this painting supersedes the hype of its fictional backstory and exemplifies the pinnacle of artistic inspiration.

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Vigee Le Brun, Marie Antoinette and her Children,  1787.

Marie Antoinette started her career as France's leading lady with a bad reputation. As a meek Austrian princess trying to save her homeland's grace by marrying the heir to the French throne, Marie's actions were questioned by every soul in Europe. Why did Louis XVI want this girl when he could have any maiden across the globe? The answer: money.

The French government was already poor, and for a small donation from Austria, marrying Marie Antoinette was the least Louis could do. So, when Marie pranced off to bed with her various gigolos, just as every queen did at the time, the public refused to turn a blind eye. Her expensive taste only amplified the skepticism. Marie Antoinette was more scorned than Eve, for her actions on the throne were more despicable than eating a forbidden apple.

Thus, in a fit of shame, Queen Marie hired the esteemed painter, Vigee Le Brun, to fix her tarnished reputation. Instead of a scantily clad depiction of Marie in her sleeping quarters, as she was most commonly viewed in France, Le Brun illustrated a maternal homebody, cradling her treasured children as though she had no cares in the world aside from building her family. Her somewhat plain red frock portrays a practicality unseen by the French public, and her feathered hat asserts the power that Queen Marie Antoinette had over the French crown. Most importantly, Marie lacked the "bling" for which she was most notorious. Le Brun portrayed Marie Antoinette as an ordinary woman, wise and understanding of France's needs.

Despite the portrait's beauty, its irony infuriated the French public. Its lies spurred even more vengeance against the frivolous French monarchy, for the people were appalled at the monarchy's attempt to become more relatable through a gigantic, expensive portrait of the country's most shameful figurehead. No matter how nice or motherly Marie Antoinette could be, her reputation preceded her. The rule of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette would forever be a joke, filled with gluttony and disregard for the French people.

Member Dismemberment
A Look at Limbs 
Curated by Kate Sims

Gustave Caillebotte, Floor Scrapers, 1875

Member Dismemberment A Look at Limbs  Curated by Kate Sims

Goya, Third of May, 1814

It is not often that a Christ-like figure appears in front of a bale of hay with a half-dozen bayonets shoved down his throat. As a commission for the provisional government of Spain, Goya’s Third of May explores the tragedy of Spanish slaughter by Napoleon’s armies coupled with commemoration for their strong resistance. The Christ figure, a nameless man holding his arms and stigmatised hands open as if he were nailed to the cross, willingly faces his murderers. As the only subject facing outward, this man shows a mournful compassion toward his killers while standing up and taking the blame for his companions. These efforts prove fruitless as his inevitable death looms as corpses stack up around him. His un-heroic positioning, an unheard of technique, overturns conventional “beauty of hero” stereotypes, and strengthens the overall impact of the piece.

The executioners, by contrast, have lost all human qualities as their arms transform into gun barrels. Their extension of arms, close shooting proximity, and anonymity represent the corruption and metamorphosis from human to beast. Their careless slaughter and lack of proper disposal undercut the humanity of the victims. Goya strove to and captured the horrific nature of war with a lone christ figure, standing up to take the blame for his community. The arm in Goya’s Third of May serve two roles, to depict a man as a Christ figure and transform men into machines of war.

Member Dismemberment A Look at Limbs  Curated by Kate Sims

David, Oath of the Horatii, 1784

On the other hand, the sisters and mother are holding their heads in their hands or dropping their arms to their sides. Greif has overtaken their bodies and literally immobilized them. The women are the only ones allowed to feel emotion because they do not have heroic responsibilities. The stillness of these characters against a plain dull setting elevate the importance of the situation. The limbs in Oath of the Horatii display the mental and physical differences between men as the tragic heroes and women as the weaker sex.

Member Dismemberment

Michelangelo, The Creation of Adam, 1511

Not Your Average Female Portrait
Ways in which you wouldn't normally view a woman
Curated by Lily Johnston

David Hockney, The Photographer and His Daughter Jim and Chloe Mchugh, 2005

If you had put this painting in front of me without me ever having seen it, I would probably say "there is a creeper in the room." An older man gazes at a teenage girl who wears a flimsy dress. But he doesn't just gaze, I would even argue that he gawks. Hand on chin, camera ready for action, and reclining in a favorite chair, the man admires youth and its beauty.

So why would David Hockney paint such an enticing photo of a man and his daughter? Right away, with giving away the major detail of father and daughter, it changes his expression to that of a creeper to an admiring father regarding his daughter and who she has grown up to be: a beautiful young woman.

For my last blog post, I wanted to go all the way back to the beginning and say that things are not always what they appear to be. This is the opposite of my argument, but nothing is ever one-sided, no matter how much I have argued for the sexual and uncomfortable side of women in paintings. While I still do believe both of their body language provides more than just a father/daughter relationship, that can just be their personalities and how they ultimately translate onto canvas.

The brush strokes glide quickly across the canvas in an almost last-minute-like feel. They surround the bodies, and it is almost as if that jar of paintbrushes relaxing on the table were the ones to do it, until they floated back.

Not Your Average Female Portrait
Ways in which you wouldn't normally view a woman
Curated by Lily Johnston

Jean Baptiste Simeon Chardin, The Purveryoress, 1739

Hello Yente. Getting all of the good gossip? While women usually tend to be thought of as chatter boxes and never mind their own business, there aren't many painted cases portraying them as such. In eighteenth-centrury Paris, the women on the sixth floor (maids) weren't acknowledged for much more than a body to clean and cook. Put into the hot basement with fresh meat from the market, they were expected to keep their mouth shut and avert their eyes from any business not pertaining to themselves. Straying away from the sexual side of views on women in paintings, I will look at a more political side.

I can imagine this painting outraged the public. Seeing their maids as sneaky gossip mongers instead of nonhuman beings. While this painting represents normality, that doesn't mean one should paint it. Leave it to good ol' Chardin to paint the truth.

Mostly known for his still life paintings, Chardin occasionally paints a portrait about a question within society. He lived and painted during the time of enlightenment when science came into question and how people function in the world. Restless French citizens longed for rebellion and equality. Divided into a timeless class system, the maids would always be maids, and honestly not much has changed. The question of this painting is less how right or wrong it is, but instead painting the unpainted side of society. The rich could commission, but the working class and the poor would never have a record other than their baptism, marriage and death. And even then, that isn't much. I find it funny how when Chardin does indeed paint the unrepresented, he paints them in the truest of light, getting enjoyment where they could.