We hear labels like the Renaissance, the Cubist movement, Impressionism and automatically we think of Michelangelo, Picasso, and Van Gogh. We fabricate time periods to fit artists, to fit ideas, to make a timeline. Although in placing arbitrary boundaries around art we lose our connection to the pieces themselves. Yes, by breaking art into specific schools, to study and analyze, we succeed in viewing the works through Michael Baxandall’s period eye. Yet what happens when you understand why a virgin Mary’s hand are placed outwards, but have no emotional reaction to the work? You only see the painting as piece of history, like a coin or cup salvaged from a some far away kingdom, not an image in front of you that was forged to inspire and to admire. 

With this collection, I plan to talk about the humanity of art, why paintings from the Renaissance mean more than a representation of certain time period. To talk about the power of artwork, the miraculous combination of paint and pigments that transcend time. The works that despite our distance from their creation continue to shock, awe, and mesmerize those who study them. 

In order to place the paintings in perspective, I plan to examine them through my personal experiences. The stories paired with each work will indeed be personal, and slightly embarrassing, but real. I believe that art serves two basic functions, one to educate and another to feel. I’ve spent the majority of high school absorbing the education and now with the little time I left before I voyage off, I figured that maybe I should feel the works one last time. 

I invite you to join me on this deconstructed academic crusade of looking at a work, and attempting to rationalize the art within in your own context. 

Welcome to the Megan period, detailed in nothing in particular but the insights of one high school senior from the Barstow School. 

So where shall we begin... the Girl with a Pearl Earring? 

If you’ve read this blog for a while or are familiar with some of my former posts, you might remember I wrote about Leibl’s Girl with White Headscarf as the supreme example of simple beauty. I now must rephrase, Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, knocks Leibl’s Girl with White Headscarf out of the park for me. 

You might be confused on why I would start our journey with a discussion on beauty, but if we’re going off the timeline of high school, beauty unfortunately is at the start. For to a high school freshmen, the Girl with a Pearl Earring represents that one senior girl who effortlessly exemplifies natural beauty. 

At 15, I wore rainbow colored shorts and collared shirts, attempting some “preppy” yet relaxed vibe. I’ve evolved to denim skirts, cotton t-shirts, stripes, sneakers, navy and green. Now in twenty years, I’ll probably look back on my senior year self and wonder what the hell was I thinking? But for now I live in amidst weathered Birkenstocks, brown leather belts, and red baseball hats. 

The fact that the identity of the Girl with the Pearl Earring, is unknown to us only makes her more mesmerizing, her anonymity gives her the passing face in the hallway vibe. She’s the kind of person who you know by name and appearance but nothing of her life beneath the surface. Vermeer paints her to be on display, her head’s position delicate and slightly agar, forcing the viewer to tilt their own head slightly to mimic her. Her eyes possess a certain storm like quality with the whites and grays drawing you in, her gaze speaks out to you as strangely personal yet equally distant. Her slightly parted lips, colored with a mild rouge, appear mid-sentence, mid-thought, creating a casualness in the viewer-painting relationship. 

Vermeer’s dark background, makes her skin appear illuminated. He further supplements her glowy skin with the light bouncing off her pearl earring. The pearl itself alludes to her elegance, and her natural and effortless beauty. A kind of last minute accessory that separates her from every other girl with a blue headscarf. 

Her headscarf beautifully painted with strokes of blue that further bring out her eyes and slightly parted lips. The traces of blue towards the nape of her neck demonstrate the continuance of this light, this light only brought you to by this transfusion of color. 

As a freshmen you see her as all you want to be, confident, beautiful, mysterious, noticed. You think of the ways to achieve this allusive beauty, attempting to change your features to fit the girl. Although as you grow, you come to realize that instead of altering yourself to fit the girl in the painting, you begin to see yourself as the girl in the painting. 

One cannot measure beauty in comparison to others, because it stems from you. The Girl with a Pearl Earring appears so stunning because she lacks fear, she embraces her beauty. As you grow, you see the impractical nature of trying to be her, your realize your eyes are not clouds of gray but a kaleidoscope of color. You discover you cannot recreate her, but why would you want to? 

At 18, I’ve come to embrace my own beauty, the freckles on my heels and shoulders, and my hair that changes with the seasons. It’s precious waste of time to compare yourself to others, for you will never live up to your own expectations unless you first accept yourself. 

Now when I look at the Girl with a Pearl Earring, I do not see some upperclassmen I aspire to be, I see myself.