My Kid Could Paint That

A freakish and creepy image, Bowie's fifth self portrait is a haunting look at what the artist perceived himself as. The crazed look on Bowie's face combined with the rushed feel of the paint strokes around the edges of the painting give off an unsettling feeling in the viewer like from a nightmare. This leads one to wonder why Bowie would want himself to be portrayed this way—it's not flattering or accurate to an outsider perspective. But is this what David Robert Jones thought of himself as? One can't truly know. But what we do know is that he had painted this himself and that says enough.

1998 is regarded as the end of Bowie's "Electronic Period," which involved progressive techno and rock sound. The previous year, Bowie was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and released the album, Earthling. The tracks in that album were tech-heavy and featured songs called "I'm Afraid of Americans" and "The Last Thing You Should Do." Some of the lyrics: "I'm afraid of Americans / I'm afraid of the world / I'm afraid I can't help it / I'm afraid I can't," and "What have you been doing to yourself / It's the last thing you should do / Nobody laughs any more / It's the worst thing you can do," I feel are a soundtrack for D Head V. These two pieces reflect a fear for the world and give off a crazed energy. Of course I realize that not all music is auto-biographical, but I still think that his dark lyrics speak to his personality and emotions.

Born in England, but like a lot of other musicians upon reaching fame, he moved to America. His eccentricity and flamboyancy perhaps did not initially fit the American aesthetic and was way too "out there" for some, but fit well with the art districts of the Europe like Berlin and Paris. While Bowie could pull large crowds in America, I feel like most of the U.S. was not ready for him at first and preferred less liberal, experimental, and expressive forms of music, perhaps leaving him to write a song like "I'm Afraid of Americans" and painting something like D Head V.

Not much explanation has been given from the artist about what he was trying to convey with his painting or what motivated him to create in this medium. His other works are just as eerie and expressive and feature other self-portraits, frightening faces in his D Head series, and portraits of his friend and punk rock star, Iggy Pop. The haunting paintings Bowie made in the late nineties seem to coincide with his unsettling lyrics from his album, Earthling.

This series of blogs aims to discuss various paintings by or of famous classic rock musicians and inspect the correlation between the figures and the art involving them.

Bob Dylan’s series, “The Beaten Path” showcases many American landscapes through the eyes of the infamous folk singer. With these paintings, Dylan wanted to display his favorite parts of American culture from his time touring around the country. Often, Dylan chooses a subject and omits the aspects of the scene that he doesn’t like or think belong—office buildings, cars, skyscrapers. While this is not an accurate representation of modern America, Dylan explains that it is intentional.

These manipulated vignettes are not meant to have emotional meaning according to the artist and are supposed to contain images that are recognizable to any viewer. Dylan wants his art to be universal and understood by all and he aims to do that by de-personalizing his paintings.

Highway 61 Revisited, an exceptionally large canvas, took up an entire wall in the Halcyon Gallery. This gorgeous sunset scene succeeds Dylan’s aim in defining America’s landscape, but I believe utterly fails his intentions to not have work that evokes emotion for the viewer. In all of his paintings, there is common theme for a desire for nostalgia in the very premise of why he paints. His reverence for hay-day America motivates Dylan and it is quite apparent when seeing his paintings of hotdog stands, retro cars, and neon signs.

His expert use of brush strokes and color can’t help but remind me of masters like Cézanne and Monet—two painters known for their landscapes and expressive pieces. Dylan uses cameras and hand-built camera-obscuras to create his compositions and paint; this tool is not obvious when looking at his images because of how stylized they are, but in paintings such as Abandoned Hotel”and this one, it is a little more apparent because of the location and the strange use of angle. Discovering Bob Dylan’s painting has been an indulging experience for me and I hope that more people look into his painting whether or not they enjoy his music.

This series of blogs aims to discuss various paintings by or of famous classic rock musicians and inspect the correlation between the figures and the art involving them.

Rock On

Beggars Banquet was regarded by critics and fans as a mature revival of the Rolling Stones’ country, folk, and rock roots after their lowly rated psychedelic period. The album contains acoustic and vocal-focused tracks that are technically impressive and musically resonant. Of the ten tracks, “No Expectations” is particularly notable as it was Jones’ last musical performance. While Brian Jones had struggled with addiction, lead members Mick Jagger and Keith Richards had difficulty finding a place for the unreliable, yet undoubtedly talented, musician in the band and were contemplating scratching him out of the band completely. When Jones showed up to the studio on the day they were to record “No Expectations,” Keith asked Brian to add something to the piece which resulted in the most beautiful slide guitar fills ever improvised.

This painting in my eyes acts as a sentiment to Brian Jones’ life and his work on Beggars Banquet. Within this composition, members of the Rolling Stones are seen strewn across a red and brown dining room holding glasses and making a toast. I also want to point out how clever the oxymoron of Beggars Banquet is and what that possibly says about the band. Perhaps it speaks to making the best of what you have. The last song in the album, “Salt of the Earth,” asks the listener to “raise a glass to the hard working people,” thank, and recognize the people that are struggling on this planet for all that they do for the rest of us and for the hard times that they pull through. This painting and the album of the same name salute Brian Jones, all of those who experience hardships, and those who do the thankless jobs.

This series of blogs aims to discuss various paintings by or of famous classic rock musicians and inspect the correlation between the figures and the art involving them.

Art critic D. Eric Bookhardt describes Dureau’s style as an “iconic mix of flamboyant elegance and earthy eccentricity,” which is evidently seen in this piece. The Beatles’ extravagant marching band outfits and white skin sharply contrast the bare dark-skinned models in the foreground, one of which seems to has a noose around his neck.

Victors of Nuba wrestling matches in Sudan are often carried on the shoulders of fans and other wrestlers becoming a town celebrity for the week until the next tournament. Perchance that is what is depicted here. Also it should be stated that traditional Nuba wrestling is done naked as clothes are not needed for the sport and can actually get in the way.

To me, this painting speaks about fame and questions what hard work is. From Liverpool, the Fab Four became a massive sensation across America and achieved great wealth and popularity within four years of forming. Meanwhile Nuba wrestlers sacrifice their bodies to the sport for very little money, if any, and only local recognition if they win a match. I feel that the bottom wrestler’s noose signifies that to attain fame, one must kill himself or die—a notion that the Beatles don’t agree with.

This series of blogs aims to discuss various paintings by or of famous classic rock musicians and inspect the correlation between the figures and the art involving them.

One of the ten portraits Warhol made of Mick Jagger, 142 shows the rock icon laughing unlike the other nine renditions. Often with pop stars, their stage personality is mistaken with their personal identity. This is especially true with the Stones’ “bad boy” status and their disreputable actions on and off stage. In 1975 The Rolling Stones were in the height of their popularity and Mick Jagger had become a common household name in the U.S. and in the U.K. This print, done that same year, continues Warhol’s series of celebrity portraits; a fascination in public figures like Marilyn Monroe to Mao Zedong saturates most of Warhol’s portfolio. But in actuality, it was the Stones who approached Warhol asking for cover art for their album, “Sticky Fingers.” They were looking for a simple and grabbing image in Warhol’s sensational style to which he delivered. The scandalous picture Warhol produced soon became perhaps the Stones’ most recognizable cover art. This contract began the two subversive icons’ friendship which lasted until Warhol’s death in 1987.

With this print, I feel it is a closer look at the human being Jagger and not the chicken-dancing persona that he took up on stage. Warhol’s screen printing technique begins with a snapshot—a frozen moment of humor that is then pulled away and simplified. This abstraction of Jagger’s face in executed in a way that fundamentally breaks it down to an exaggerated state divided in blocks of color. The yellow rectangle resembles a post-it-note as if Warhol is jotting down only the essential aspects of Jagger’s physique. Overall, there is an experimental and loving feel to this piece in trying to capture Warhol’s friend in a piece of art.

This series of blogs aims to discuss various paintings by or of famous classic rock musicians and inspect the correlation between the figures and the art involving them.

Lovestruck and Livestock

Thisbe (Deluxe Edition)

In the front cover of this album lay several scattered sheets of notebook paper covered with sloppy handwriting. These words transcribed an interview with Bean Handerson, the lead band member of Lovestruck and Livestock.

"Bean, what caused you to temporarily leave Deathro Dull to for Lovestruck and Livestock?"

"Well chap, I felt like letting go, you know? I feel like as a society we a too clingy and feel like we have an umbilical cord connecting us with these false desires and 'needs' as if we're grown babies swimming in this pool of helplessness, to put it frankly."

"You are a renown self-taught oboe player and you used to make masterful solos back with Dethro Dull; I don't remember hearing any of that in Thisbe.

"Actually, it is still there, but we decided to record them from across the pasture in France where the recording studio."

"So that explains this thirty seconds of seemingly silent audio in 'Automotive Gasp'..."

"Exacto-runey, I wanted to fabricate this sense of confusion and intrigue in the piece."

"And why did you chose Rembrandt's Slaughtered Ox as the album cover?"

"Well, you know... *unintelligible*.... and I think it really speaks to our music, you know? And the woman in the background is like this mystifying being who is casting a spell of the viewer and... *unintelligible*... you know? *unintelligible*... so that's why we decided on the name Thisbe."

Editor's Note: Students happened upon a cache of hidden records with cover art from the Baroque masters. They were charged to investigate the vinyls. The above are their findings. 

By ETHAN DOSKEY

This colossal and stupefying panel by "the Greek" immediately fascinated me when I saw it in the Art Institute of Chicago. Measuring more than 13 feet tall and almost seven feet wide, this vignette of the Virgin's ascent into heaven demands the attention of anyone passing by.

While one may guess El Greco painted this after years of masterpieces under his fancy, black robe-belt because of the exceptional quality of the Assumption of the Virgin, this was his first big-time commission in Spain. Along with three other paintings of his, and his own burial place, this painting was originally located in the Church of Santo Domingo el Antiguo in Toledo, Spain. Today it lies across from the equally (yet entirely different in its approach) religious and captivating Crucifixion by Francisco de Zurbarán painted a half century later.

The juxtaposition in styles of Spanish painting during the Renaissance: a beautiful, colorful, and fantastical mannerist painting against the realistic, focused, and bare-bones execution of Zurbarán's Crucifixion entranced all museum-goers circulating through this room. On one end, we have a clear glorification of Christianity and the wonders associated with the belief. On the other end, the clear, undistracted, and undeniably apparent pain and violence inflicted upon God's son, Jesus, conveying to any viewer the sacrifice he endured for their sins.

Subversive to the conventional and uninformed view of Renaissance art being dull, comically incorrect in perspective, and ugly, this painting will surely convert all non-believers in paintings that are not from recent history. On that note, there is a beauty in how this was painted for the purpose of illustrating the grandeur of God, but today we have the liberty to attach our own individual post-modern interpretation and meaning to these masterpieces in Christian art painted four-hundred years ago.  We may see this painting with knowledge of other art that was created around the globe well before, well after, or perhaps in the same place fifty years later, as we've done. I find the non-period eye a fascinating tool that should be capitalized more upon in the academic community. Of course it is crucial to appreciate a piece of art for what it's worth in the context, conditions, and period it was created in, we should also recognize our fortunate position to make the comparisons that we do.

In the painting itself, I noticed the clear division between the mystified Apostles and the surprise-party-like celebration of the angels in heaven. When seeing this in person, I was enthralled with the use of scale and how it influenced the viewing experience of the painting. The figures in the lower half appear close to human size, letting the voyeur become a part of this religious event. Then, the accepting and embracing motion of the Virgin assenting into heaven leads the eyes up well into the sky where heaven is — a pseudo-immersive experience that demonstrates El Greco's excellence in what he did.

Additionally, the suggestion that she is dead welcomed even more distress among the Catholic community. Her sickly and bloated feet and hands along with her frazzled hair suggests that she is, in fact, dead. To quote Monty Python, she "is no more! [She] has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace!"

It appears that her death occurred and was neither instantaneous nor holy. The Apostles and the young woman in the foreground (who I will assume is Mary Magdalene) grieve like she had died like any other mortal, and did not assent into heaven without "dying," as it is suggested in the Bible. Unlike other artists at the time, Mary is not embracing the heavens or is surrounded by angels and cherubs. Instead, she appears grounded on Earth. And her halo is barely visible. While this is a spiritual painting, few clues suggest this.

One of these indications is the beautiful red draping fabric that mirrors the scene below it. Somewhat of a mannerist flare to the image, it covers about one third of the painting's composition. Because its color is the same as the Virgin Mary's dress, Caravaggio hints that this is her soul ascending into heaven. Other Assumption of the Virgin paintings of this time appear almost nothing like this rendition. This masterpiece looks to be happening right before us as if we are standing right behind the brass bowl on the ground. Like in Giotto's Lamentation about three hundred years before, Caravaggio welcomes the viewer right into the scene as if we were witnessing this biblical scene with the rest of them.

This is just one of several dark, Earthly, captivating, controversial and so well executed paintings Caravaggio produced as he matured and grew more insane. How can such a mad man create such beautiful and contemporary art?

Parmigianino, the Mannerist painter from Parma, Italy, got his start doing small commissions in his hometown for churches and in homes. This mural in the Castle of Fontanellato of Diana and Actaeon from Ovid's Metamorphoses is a prime example of the soon-to-be classic's early work. The painting covers the entire upper-half of the room, including the ceiling. It depicts the goddess Diana discovering Actaeon watching her bathe, and then turning him into a stag as consequence. Ironically, the story goes that Actaeon was next attacked by his own hunting dogs, who did not recognize their master. (Moral of the story: don't walk around in the woods or you may find a naked goddess, leading to your death?)

While the bodies and painting itself is not done with the upmost detail or precision, Parmigianino is crafting his own style that would later become "Mannerism." Later in the same year that he completed Diana and Actaeon, Parmigianino traveled to Rome to seek fame, which he did.

However, Parmigianino's short career was challenged by his inability to finish a commission after starting it. Instead of working on the canvas itself, he would sketch dozens of drawings in his notebook. Unsatisfied by his progress or the finished product, Parmigianino would rework and resketch the paintings until content with his art. Often this process took years, causing many patrons to find work elsewhere and give the commissions to another artist.

In one instance, Parmigianino was hired by a nobleman to paint his vault. Though, in classic Parmigianino fashion, he took his time and could not make any substantial progress whatsoever. As months went by, the patron grew frustrated by the painter's snail pace. Eventually, the aristocrat's patience expired, and he had Parmigianino arrested for taking too long.

A year after being jailed and then bailed out by a loyal patron and an architect, Parmigianino died in Casalmaggiore, Italy in recluse at the age of 37n. Today, few of his paintings of his survive because of their untraceability and the fact that Parmigianino completed but a handful works. Despite the small quantity of existing paintings, his style influenced other painters who would build off of what he started: Mannerism.

The outer panels of perhaps Bosch's most famous painting depicts a scene utterly different from the contents inside. This monochromatic green-gray scale directly contrasts the vibrant green, blue, and pink innards as does the lack of humans and creatures. The only figure seen is God on the upper left corner next to the quotation “For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm” (Psalm 33.9).

Leading theories suggest that these outside panels are a view of the third day of Earth when land, plants, and foliage were created. This argument makes a lot of sense chronologically (according to the Bible) as the inside illustrations follow the linear story of the creation of man in the Garden of Eden, man's temptation to evil, and then finally Hell itself. Additionally, there is no evidence of the Sun, moon, or stars, which were created on the Fourth day. The title The Garden of Earthly Delights complements this suggestion in a witty fashion; the "Garden" being the previously mentioned Eden or perhaps the land that God created, and "Delights" being man's ecstasy from lust and greed.

I chose the exterior of this chef d'oeuvre because of how Bosch applied his style to such an uncharacteristic subject. Also, by how drastically different it is compared to any of his other works: there is not a single creature or ungodly monstrosity, nor any vibrant color pops.

Bosch teases to the interior of this painting and past works of his through the surreal plants and landmarks on the Earth. In a way, Bosch plays God my making his own semi-disturbing version of the Bible story and by creating his own planet. Bosch does not hold back in this painting. It is so technically beautiful and skillful and yet also so thought provoking and open to interpretation, which makes this piece so prolific and admired. By making the outer panels so simplistic, he ingeniously compliments his own work and creates a welcoming image that unfolds into this delightful/nightmarish world.

Dürer expertly forms a stunningly life-like vignette of Saint Jerome in his study with his dog and lion in this single-point perspective. The step at the bottom, the pillar to the left, and the ceiling on the top creates the illusion of a frame that invites the viewer into the scene as if you were standing just outside the room. The accurate viewpoint evokes a sense of believability in the etching along with the shadows and projected light from the window. Above this, though, I am most impressed by the level of detail on such a small plate; the room comes alive from items that tell us more about the world in that time period.

In a historical sense, one can gather what technology and style people would have in Dürer's time because evidence suggests that, like classic Italian Renaissance artists, Dürer drew from the real world. He believed that, "no man can ever make a beautiful image out of his private imagination unless he have replenished his mind by much painting from life" (Four Books on Human Proportions). This philosophy becomes apparent in his etchings that obviously draw from real world models because of the precise dimensions and shading.

His attention to detail is astounding. The grain of the wood, the fur of the animals, St. Jerome's beard, Dürer's signature on the floor, the slippers behind the dog, the scissors on the wall, the crucifix on the table - impeccable. Considering the constraints and nature of the medium as well as the tools he would have used, Dürer proves even more impressive. Since he used print-making as his medium, his work was easily copied and distributable which drastically opened up his audience and making him the first celebrity artist.