Three Flags

Isabel Thomas
Jasper Johns, Three Flags, 1958
By ISABEL THOMAS


Three years after painting Flag and White Flag, Jasper Johns created my personal favorite among his works: Three Flags. The painting is technically fantastic with clean lines, hues of time-faded white fabric, and unbelievable depth extracted from an object as flat as a flag. The painting jumps out at you—flies into your personal space—and has a freshness in its style. With stars and stripes on stars and stripes on stars and stripes, one can see nothing but good old-fashioned patriotism. So that was Johns's goal, right? Good. Simple analysis—moving on.


Surprisingly, love/hatred of America was not the idea behind the work. During the first part of his career, Johns used "concrete" subjects—familiar items from everyday life—to withdraw emotion from his paintings. Since they already feel comfortable with the image in front of them, viewers feel an automatic association with Johns's works.

The emotional response elicited by Three Flags also results from the highly symbolic nature of its subject matter. Observers' reactions differ dramatically based on their national allegiance and the point in time at which they view the painting. For any person, though, it is difficult not to have personal experiences tied to a symbol as omnipresent as the American flag. Although he tried to remove emotion by using clear, tangible objects, Jasper Johns created a highly affecting piece with Three Flags, whose simplicity generates ever-changing reception.

  • 7:00 AM

Paris through the Window

Isabel Thomas
Marc Chagall, Paris through the Window, 1913
By ISABEL THOMAS

In a post last year, I talked about Marc Chagall's adoration of Bella Rosenfeld—with his lyrical descriptions of their love and his numerous sacrifices to bring her with him while he built his art career. Paris through the Window depicts a time when the two were separated by 1,500 miles, three years after Chagall moved to Paris to take advantage of its artistic opportunities.

Despite the bright colors in Paris through the Window, Chagall faced an inner-conflict when he painted it. He was caught between two nations and two cultures, and the man in the bottom-right corner embodies Chagall's identity, split between Liozna and Paris. The side of his face looking west at France is blue, but the left half of the painting contains so much beauty and brilliance. The man's right side faces east to his native Russia and his Bella. The couple floating in front of the Eiffel Tower—with the man to the west and the woman to the east—represents Chagall and Bella, floating in ethereality of love despite their separation.

An early work of Chagall, Paris through the Window includes many of the artist's characteristic aspects, such as floating couples, playful cityscapes, and vibrant colors. Like his love for Bella, much of Chagall's style remained throughout his career. He maintained his brightness through wars, displacement, Bella's death, and the genocide of his people. Chagall always looked both forward to the future and back at his heritage—split like the man in his painting from decades before his biggest heartbreak.

  • 7:00 PM

Two Girls with Parasols

Isabel Thomas
John Singer Sargent, Two Girls with Parasols, 1888
By ISABEL THOMAS

In Strapless: John Singer Sargent and the Fall of Madame X, Deborah Davis describes Sargent’s tendency to view the women in his paintings—like Madame Gautreau of Madame X—not as people, but as subjects to be painted. The artist depicts Gautreau as a porcelain doll on display in the famous painting, but she at least has a face, unlike the women in Two Girls with Parasols. Sargent strips them of their names, faces, and identities and leaves them as scenery—details of the landscape. Even though they have to endure the constraint and objectification of womanhood in this society, Sargent gives them the title of girls, not women.

Like Madame X, Two Girls with Parasols possesses a gilded beauty. Beneath the initial reaction to Sargent’s undeniable talent is a sadness in the artist and the subjects of his works. The shallow lifestyle led by the women in Two Girls with Parasols—which brought misery to countless others—was the prototype for the characters of Clarissa Dalloway and Lily Bart in Mrs. Dalloway and House of Mirth, respectively. After reading Mrs. Dalloway and House of Mirth and examining the leisure class around Sargent’s time, I could not help but make a connection to this painting. The clothing of these “lucky” members of the upper class was designed to hold them back. Corsets restricted the body and reduced practical abilities by preventing physical activity. Parasols literally shielded these women from the world around them and existed as an indication that they never went outside—that they were trapped indoors by the demands of high society functions.

The subjects of Two Girls with Parasols are surrounded by nature but live in a completely unnatural social system. This painting differs from Sargent’s characteristic style—like that of Madame X—with colors reminiscent of the Impressionists and brushstrokes as abstract as constructed gender roles. The painting’s scenery flows around the path as these “girls” look to what lies in their future. The faceless women follow this course along with Clarissa Dalloway, Lily Bart, and countless others.

  • 7:00 AM

Fêtes and Folly: The Youth of Bacchus

Isabel Thomas
William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Youth of Bacchus, 1884

By ISABEL THOMAS

Spring break is starting, and we all know what that means: crazy parties, new cohorts, and plenty of regrets—at least if you’re Bacchus. The god of wine and ritual madness (in the form of concerts and late-night bonfires around this time of year) always brings the drama. Without fail, he turns otherwise-sensible young ladies and gents into packs of irresponsible hooligans. Bouguereau captures the mood of Bacchus’ antics with The Youth of Bacchus, wherein young people (presumably letting loose after the never-ending workload of third quarter) drape themselves on the wine god, reveling in his reckless abandon.

The full-time party boy’s tan physique contrasts with spring break students who have not been outside in months. Bouguereau’s painting bursts with youthful gaiety, with subjects delighted to be temporarily free of academic and personal responsibility. The heavenly figures are all clearly defined but still connected and entwined, entirely unconcerned. I suppose that, when one is in the presence of the actual party god, one forgets about that homework due on the first day back.



*** Editor's Note: Students developed the topic of Fêtes and Folly to chronicle elegant celebrations, bad dates, late nights, or other things related to that time in Spring where barbaric yawps can be heard from backyards, beaches, or the more familiar rooftop. Enjoy their revelry and occasional tales of ribaldry over the next couple of weeks.


  • 7:00 AM

Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday

George Grosz
George Grosz and John Heartfield, Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday, 1920

By ISABEL THOMAS

Did you remember to schedule that appointment? Did you find an excuse not to see your friend’s New-Agey play in some theatre above a flower shop downtown? What about those thank-you notes you’ve been putting off since your birthday six months ago? I know you didn’t write those.

George Grosz and John Heartfield’s Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday captures the overwhelming inundation of images in the modern era. With inexpensive reproductions of art flooding the senses, inspiration and potential for artistic creation existed everywhere. Grosz and Heartfield’s photomontage resembles a mind cluttered with news headlines and advertisements after a day of taking in the information that fills their corner of Universal City. A person from 2016 can relate to this as easily as someone from 1920.

Photographic collages came into existence in the 1850s but were not respected as an art form until the 1920s, the decade of Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday. In Modern Art 1851-1929, Brettell says that collage artists “used newspapers, advertisements, theatre tickets, handbills, labels, wallpaper, or other flat urban ephemera as other artists used paint and brushes.” This medium allowed Grosz and Heartfield to convey their work’s message in words (it doesn't get much clearer than writing the name of your art movement in bold). The inclusion of headlines and taglines intensifies the impact of Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday as a representation of modern commotion.

Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday makes me feel anxious about my ever-growing to-do list, and I find myself wishing for a moment without pop culture, advertisements, and the forms of entertainment designed to distract people from their lives. The appeal of this photomontage is that its elements exist as separate entities but are all together in our understanding of the world. It is satisfying to see parts of everyday life connected because it is truer to how people experience them—how everything seems to flow together into a singular memory of each day.

Maybe you did not finish the dishes or you forgot to pick up your dry-cleaning, but those imperfections—incomplete tasks, break-downs from stress, and prayers for moments of silence—are natural; they are art taken straight from reality. Life and Activity in Universal City at 12:05 Midday makes use of the freedoms of modern art to embody modern life, in all of its stress, loudness, and ultimate beauty.
  • 7:00 AM

Grand Canal (Venise)

Grand Canal (Venise)
Paul Signac, Grand Canal (Venise), 1905
By ISABEL THOMAS

Unlike artists in some other schools, the Post-Impressionists did not identify as a cohesive group. Art historians categorized them together because they painted at the same time in Paris. Although they did not work together, paintings by Post-Impressionists have some stylistic aspects in common. They focused primarily on form, so their figures are more defined than those of the Impressionists, even though the individual strokes have the same style. In addition to form, the Post-Impressionists utilized color, believing that it most effectively delivered a painting’s emotion. They willingly sacrificed realism for the aesthetic value of less-than-realistic colors.

Paul Signac uses water in his Grand Canal (Venise) to capture movement in his paint strokes. His utilization of color is the most striking part of the painting, though. He incorporates a multitude of pastel hues and uses the same colors in the sky, water, and building. Signac, a master of pointillism, does not allow his colors to mix on the canvas. Instead, he leaves the blending to the mind of his audience. More so than other paintings, Signac’s Grand Canal (Venise) changes with each viewer, because the color combinations belong to the individual imagination. Even with the painting’s undeniable harmony, the figures are clear and distinct. With the serenity and optimism of Grand Canal (Venise), Signac succeeds in the Post-Impressionistic goal of delivering power through color. Signac’s unifying colors present a coexistence of nature and man-made structures and make viewers feel, if only for a moment, as though the entire world is connected.


  • 7:00 AM

By Design

By Design
Robert Schmid, By Design, 2014

By ISABEL THOMAS

A gift to Lin-Manuel Miranda, the twenty-first century’s most revolutionary composer and playwright:

After returning from her first year at Stanford University, Nina Rosario of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights explains that leaving home has changed her perspective, because she never realized the enormity of the world outside of New York City. In “When You’re Home,” she sings, “I used to think that we lived at the top of the world, when the world was just a subway map.” Longing for the simplicity of home after a tumultuous year, she asks, “Can you remind me of what it was like at the top of the world?”

Years after first hearing that song, I now prepare for college and to leave my subway map. With In the Heights, Lin-Manuel Miranda showed me that, despite their differences, home and adventure hold equal importance in life and that one must find a balance between them. In the Heights, Lin’s first show, explores the idea of home and ends with the realization that it is where one is cared for and where one leaves a mark.

In the Heights and Lin’s more recent show, Hamilton, changed my understanding of family, country, and community. These two shows feature types of music that I had never explored, but they have become two of my all-time favorites, nonetheless, because they exhibit the most masterful combination of emotion and music that I have experienced. Despite earning Emmy, Tony, and Grammy Awards, a MacArthur Genius Grant, and his place as a Pulitzer finalist, Lin remains remarkably humble. His passion remains in his music and the reaction that it evokes. Writing about the story of his neighborhood and then the story of his country, Lin constantly attempts to return to his community everything that it has given him.

As the title character of Hamilton as well as the writer of its book, lyrics, and music, Lin must think about every aspect of the show. His humility and genius provide a message as strong as those in the lyrics of his musicals. Preparing for college, I seek the commitment that it takes to work on one project for six years in order to make each line perfect, the humility to return overwhelming praise only with gratitude and a desire to give more, and the generosity to put on a unique show every day for those who cannot afford or find tickets. I admire that Lin begins new projects before he can finish the last one out of a simple desire to give to his audience.

With Moana and Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Lin’s music will reach countless new people over the next year, but I will always look back to my first time listening to In the Heights and remembering how much emotion musical theatre can deliver if it has a writer who devotes his heart to the work.

Out of gratitude to Lin-Manuel Miranda, I give him Robert Schmid’s By Design. Schmid paints New York the way I imagine Lin sees it: full of color, promise, and eccentricity. Without directly interacting with each other, the painting’s subjects share this space and all add to its spirit. The subway car feels intimate but somehow not cramped. By Design reminds me of the opening number of In the Heights, wherein Usnavi describes the bustle of New York as “just a part of the routine. Everybody’s got a job; everybody’s got a dream.” I give By Design to Lin-Manuel Miranda because he and Schmid share an ability to reveal beauty in New York streets and subway cars, beauties found only in “the greatest city in the world.”


Editor's Note: User error by the editor left out this fine post back in December. Apologies to all.
  • 7:00 AM

Portrait of Dmitry Mendeleev Wearing the Edinburgh University Professor Robe

Ilya Repin
Portrait of Dmitry Mendeleev Wearing the Edinburgh University Professor Robe, Ilya Repin, 1885
By ISABEL THOMAS

Ilya Repin used art as a ticket out of his native Ukraine, but during his studies in St. Petersburg and voyages to Western Europe he always painted the common people who reminded him of his upbringing. After receiving a taste of notoriety, Repin abandoned the themes of the Realists to create portraits of Russian nobility. Repin shifted theme again later in his life and began to paint artists of all kinds, be they composers, painters, authors, or scientists. With Portrait of Dmitry Mendeleev Wearing the Edinburgh University Professor Robe, Repin formed a comparison between himself and the Siberian-born creator of the modern Periodic Table.

With a blank background and the company of only books, Repin conveys that Mendeleev’s entire life revolves around academia. His robe colors belong to a specific university, but the graduation cap applies more universally to the academic world. While the books and cap—Repin’s representations of scholarship—exist in black and white, Mendeleev himself is bright and adorned with color. The scientist provides the painting’s light, and his ingenuity stands out from dark surroundings. Repin only needs to give Mendeleev a blank background because the scientist’s genius and achievement fill the canvas on their own.

Repin often painted musicians and academics as a statement that all who add to the world fit into the same category. Painters, composers, and scientists who push the boundaries of their fields and share creations have a common purpose and gift. With the somehow emotional black background and vibrant robes, Repin tells his audience that Mendeleev’s endeavors are beautiful; they are art.

Repin does not need magnificent landscapes in the background to prove his subject’s greatness, because the painting’s radiance lies in Mendeleev's facial expression and its depth within his mind. The scene may initially feel melancholy, but, if one looks at Mendeleev’s face with enough attention, one sees that his mind contains more than the average person can experience. The painting’s viewers are not meant to pity him for his isolation in a dark room, because the light exists within him. If anything, we viewers should envy Mendeleev.

Repin draws out beauty and depth from a scene with the potential to bore. Through this act, Repin proves that he does in fact liken to Mendeleev, because the two men share the genius of innovation.
  • 7:00 AM

Art History Hotties: Louis XIV

Art History Hotties
Hyacinthe Rigaud, Louis XIV, 1701
By ISABEL THOMAS

Look at those calves, accented by leggings that would defy any dress code. The luxurious, richly-colored fabric around the monarch does not hurt the work’s ambiance, either. The king stands so that no one misses his shoes, enticingly red and at the peaks of fashion. He wears them to conceal his modest height of 5’4”, but with full knowledge that heels accentuate those calf muscles.

Louis XIV, an avid dancer, showed off his legs when Hyacinthe Rigaud painted him. Other kings hid their untoned calves in robes, but Louis XIV knew his assets. After all, that untamable mane alone would not get you too far in eighteenth-century France. The monarch also showed off his oversized sword and cane in the portrait to assert his authority. As Teddy Roosevelt said, “Pose fabulously, and carry a big stick,” or something like that.

Just a painting of such magnificence elicited respect and awe. In Art through the Ages, Gardner writes, “When the king was not present, Rigaud’s portrait, which hung over the throne, served in his place, and courtiers knew never to turn their backs on the painting.” In his absence, King Louis XIV used Rigaud’s work to flaunt his grace and remind his subjects why they so admired their king: for his exquisite calves.

Rigaud makes it obvious that King Louis XIV, certified hottie of eighteenth-century France, deserves the opulence that surrounds him, but, for his policy? No. For his lineage? Probably not. For his extravagance? Absolutely.
  • 7:00 AM

Dance at Bougival

Dance at Bougival
Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Dance at Bougival, 1883 

 By ISABEL THOMAS

 Roman
by Arthur Rimbaud

 On n'est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans.
- Un beau soir, foin des bocks et de la limonade,
Des cafés tapageurs aux lustres éclatants !
- On va sous les tilleuls verts de la promenade.
Les tilleuls sentent bon dans les bons soirs de juin !
L'air est parfois si doux, qu'on ferme la paupière ;
Le vent chargé de bruits - la ville n'est pas loin -
A des parfums de vigne et des parfums de bière....

- Voilà qu'on aperçoit un tout petit chiffon
D'azur sombre, encadré d'une petite branche,
Piqué d'une mauvaise étoile, qui se fond
Avec de doux frissons, petite et toute blanche...
Nuit de juin ! Dix-sept ans ! - On se laisse griser.
La sève est du champagne et vous monte à la tête...
On divague ; on se sent aux lèvres un baiser
Qui palpite là, comme une petite bête....

Le coeur fou Robinsonne à travers les romans,
Lorsque, dans la clarté d'un pâle réverbère,
Passe une demoiselle aux petits airs charmants,
Sous l'ombre du faux col effrayant de son père...
Et, comme elle vous trouve immensément naïf,
Tout en faisant trotter ses petites bottines,
Elle se tourne, alerte et d'un mouvement vif....
- Sur vos lèvres alors meurent les cavatines...

Vous êtes amoureux. Loué jusqu'au mois d'août.
Vous êtes amoureux. - Vos sonnets La font rire.
Tous vos amis s'en vont, vous êtes mauvais goût.
- Puis l'adorée, un soir, a daigné vous écrire...!
- Ce soir-là,... - vous rentrez aux cafés éclatants,
Vous demandez des bocks ou de la limonade..
- On n'est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans
Et qu'on a des tilleuls verts sur la promenade.

 Editor's Note: Students were asked to match a poem of their choice with a painting of their choice. The relationship between the two shall be determined by the viewer/reader.
  • 7:00 AM

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog

Caspar David Friedrich
Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, 1818
By ISABEL THOMAS

“Once again / Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, / Which on a wild secluded scene impress / Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect / The landscape with the quiet of the sky”
           “Lines,” William Wordsworth.

Like the narrator of “Lines,” the man in Friedrich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog feels connected to nature and reveres its serenity. Alone atop a cliff, the man finds a personal paradise and an escape from the city.

Friedrich’s clouds and fog unite elements of the landscape and envelop mighty mountains in softness. All of nature becomes one before the wanderer’s eyes. Part of the setting but outside of the cycle, he simply observes, in awe of the scene unfolding before him. Above the world, the man can look down on the folly of a civilization from which he temporarily removes himself. Clouds that reveal only the tops of peaks cover trivial concerns below.

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog demonstrates Friedrich’s incredible skill and elicits an emotional response. The subtle hues in the sunset have an optimistic quality, and the clouds soften stress. The painting draws out a deep breath and reminds observers to slow down and appreciate the world outside of papers and commitments. Even if one’s cliff exists only within the mind, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog prompts a retreat to regain personal equilibrium.

As diverse as they may be, viewers of Wanderer above the Sea of Fog all assume the man’s position over the mist. By leaving the wanderer faceless and receptive to adaptation, Friedrich intended this response. The clouds and cliffs carry people to tranquility and replace pressure with the pure white landscape.

Wordsworth suggests that one can return to past experiences in memory. He writes, “The picture of the mind revives again: / While here I stand, not only with the sense / Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts / That in this moment there is life and food / For future years.” With the ethereal qualities of memory, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog potentially features a man standing on a cliff, not physically, but within his thoughts.

  • 7:00 AM

The Death of Socrates

Death of Socrates
Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Socrates, 1787
By ISABEL THOMAS

The gray-haired man bears off-white clothing that mirrors his attempted piety. Despite the harshness of his dark cell, a light reminiscent of Caravaggio’s The Calling of Saint Matthew engulfs the philosopher and his students. As the man reaches for the hemlock and seals his fate, his wife waves goodbye and exits the room, bringing depth to the painting. The man, Socrates, frees himself from earthly pain and rigid Athenian law by choosing death, and the unlocked shackle below his feet captures his liberation. With the exception of Plato and Crito, Socrates’ followers act hysterical, but their teacher is in complete control, emulating the painting’s severe lines. Only the clothing on Socrates and his pupils escapes the dim gray cell, and each man’s robe has a color as individual as his school of thought. In this painting, The Death of Socrates, David creates a technical masterpiece with realistic emotion, accurate anatomy, and perfect drapery. In this work – neoclassical in both subject and style – David calls upon the past to incite revolution.

Socrates claimed a personal connection to the gods through his Daimon, or messenger angel. The Athenian court saw this as an unlawful introduction of deities and charged Socrates with heresy as well as corruption of his young students. In David’s painting, Socrates points to the sky as he reaches for the hemlock. With these two final actions, the philosopher ends his life in complete control. Socrates used death as a message of strength for his students, and David sought the same effect amidst the instability of 1787 France.

Like in his famous Oath of the Horatii, David pictures a man choosing to die for allegiance to a concept in The Death of Socrates. Prominent political and artistic figures alike praised the strength of this painting. David revived the story of Socrates as a challenge to the French people to maintain their convictions and revolutionary spirit. The Death of Socrates conveys David’s belief that the fight for liberty exceeds all sacrifice, including death.

  • 7:00 AM

Self-Portrait with Her Daughter

Élisabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun
Élisabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun, Self-Portrait with Her Daughter, 1789
By ISABEL THOMAS

Élisabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun’s Self-Portrait with Her Daughter embodies the compassion of the human spirit. Vigée-Lebrun captures a warm, gentle embrace between her subjects in a painting that exudes softness. Any buyer would want these two beautiful faces to grace his or her wall. Vigée-Lebrun, the painting’s mother in more ways than one, dons a costume reminiscent of classical times -- only one way that the artist alludes to painting’s past.

Vigée-Lebrun perfectly executes the triangular composition of artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and calls upon the Masters of the Italian Renaissance. Partnered with the anatomical accuracy of her subjects, this technique demonstrates the artist’s proficiency. Vigée-Lebrun possesses this knowledge and talent despite her restricted opportunity as a female painter. Her determination alone gives Vigée-Lebrun artistic merit and creates value in her work.

Known for her Rococo color palette, Vigée-Lebrun uses an emotional combination of warm and cool hues in Self-Portrait with Her Daughter. The green cloth over the mother’s lap represents fertility and renewal of herself through her child. The daughter’s blue dress symbolizes tranquility, loyalty, and trust -- emotions mirrored in her facial expression. Passionate red accents in the mother’s ensemble stand out and cut through the cool colors.

The painting’s empty gray background pushes its subjects forward -- Vigée-Lebrun masterfully creates depth and shape in a painting with no scene. Small details, such as the mother’s blush and curls, further illustrate the artist’s ability. More powerful than her composition, though, is the emotion that Vigée-Lebrun develops in this painting; the protective mother and trusting daughter share an undeniable, heart-warming closeness.

Vigée-Lebrun’s decision to include her daughter in a self-portrait indicates the importance of their relationship. Artists regularly look directly at their audiences when included in their own paintings; since she paints her daughter doing the same, Vigée-Lebrun represents her child as part of herself. Vigée-Lebrun’s daughter is a living self-portrait. The artist gives a circular shape to the embrace between child and parent, representing the stages of life clinging together in a perpetual cycle. In Self-Portrait with Her Daughter, Vigée-Lebrun communicates that she will live on through her children as well as her art.

  • 7:00 AM

Untitled 1959

Isabel Thomas
Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1959
By ISABEL THOMAS

 When I started looking through Mark Rothko’s paintings, I knew that I would spend a great deal of time with whichever one I selected. I tried to decide if I wanted oranges and yellows, grays and blacks, or tragic blues. This search turned into an emotional roller coaster, as some paintings made the emptiness of the universe all too immediate and others took me back to summer days in the yard with my brothers. After watching the course of my life in Rothko’s paint, I opened an image of Untitled 1959. Even an online copy had enough power to clear my mind of everything except this painting. The colors glow as if they create their own light source, and John Logan’s play Red suddenly makes more sense than ever – these reds define passion more completely than words ever could.

Untitled 1959 has more life than Rothko’s darker paintings. It is still a dramatic work – just less of a tragedy. One can feel the blood pumping through this painting – it radiates life. Rothko used all reds and plums and no black colors in Untitled 1959, and this shows how much passion he had. Created just over a decade before the artist’s suicide, this painting reflects that, despite Rothko’s pain and his frustration at society, his passion remained under all of the darkness. Rothko showed in this painting that he could still produce moments of brightness.

The work’s overall radiance initially hit me, but, as my eyes shifted to the darker top section, I felt my mood change and my outlook shift. Dark plum shades divide the painting into three distinct pieces. At first, I could not tell if the middle section sinks below or hovers above the rest of the painting, but I now believe that it breaks away from darkness to leave any black below.

No observer can escape from the emotion of this painting. It has no mild area for respite from the intense, concentrated feeling. In Untitled 1959, Rothko forces his viewers to face passion.

  • 7:00 AM

The Calling of Saint Matthew

Caravaggio
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, The Calling of Saint Matthew, 1599-1600

Note: We mortals are not worthy to comment on this painting or its creator.

Sir Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio tore through restrictions in both society and painting. He killed over girls, pulled swords and daggers on people in the street, and vandalized his own apartment in a fit of rage. Caravaggio’s mouth got him in more trouble than did his actions, and when his life of debauchery got him exiled, he began an adventure that took him all over Italy, led him to become a knight in Malta, and set him up to blow everyone away upon his return.

The Baroque artist had indisputable natural talent. He did not sketch before painting, which only makes his works more impressive, and he rejected the classical idea that Biblical personages must be depicted as celestial beings in Utopian scenes. Caravaggio shared a covenant of honesty with his public, so he did not hesitate to show the morbid, painful, and real aspects of life. He brought all subjects down to the same base level, because saints were humans, just like the peasants of 1600, on the same Earth as Caravaggio.

The Fabbrica of St. Peter’s commissioned The Calling of Saint Matthew (1599-1600), coupled with The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew, for the Contarelli Chapel. The first publicly displayed works of Caravaggio, these paintings highlight his artistic strengths of light and dark, weight, and earthliness. The Calling of Saint Matthew shows a conversion in austerity. Matthew, the apostle who wrote the first Gospel, was a tax collector obsessed with the material until called upon by Christ. Matthew counts money in a common, dirty tavern until the light of God comes down to bring him out of his materialistic darkness. In this representation, the partially-hidden Christ appears in the background instead of acting as the focus of the painting.

The aesthetic of The Calling of Saint Matthew comes from the vertical/horizontal balance of the painting's subjects. Contrast in body language and color also draws in observers to explore the variety of the work. The staging allows the scene to feel intimate and natural but still open its audience. Caravaggio breaks down the fourth wall in many of his paintings, and his use of heaviness and facial expression allows the masses to relate to Saint Matthew’s miracle, whether they first see this painting in 1600 or 2015.

  • 5:30 PM

Over the Town

Isabel Thomas
Marc Chagall, Over the Town, 1918
By ISABEL THOMAS

In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.

On a family vacation over the summer, I skipped some of the more frivolous activities offered on the Allure of the Seas and, as a budding art historian, instead attended art lectures and three-hour auctions for paintings that I could never afford. During one of those lectures, the Park West Gallery representative painted a picture of the life of Marc Chagall, an artist with whom I became familiar the year before in Paris. Before the cruise, I had known Chagall simply as the man who recreated the ceiling of l’Opéra Garnier and painted colorful floating people, but as one of few audience members I learned about his tragic life and relationship with Bella Rosenfeld.

Chagall was born in Liozna, Russia (now Belarus) in 1887 and moved to Paris in 1910 to advance his artistic career. In 1914, he returned to Russia to marry Bella and bring her back to France with him. World War One broke out during Chagall’s trip to Vitebsk, and he could not leave the country. Marc and Bella did not return to France until 1923, and they once again escaped war when they left Nazi-occupied Paris for New York City in 1941. War eventually reached them in 1944 when Bella contracted a virus and died due to wartime medicine shortages. In addition to his wife’s death, the Holocaust sent Chagall into a deep depression, and, after a short hiatus, he painted only Bella to preserve her memory and the memory of his people.

Chagall’s comments about his wife were almost as colorful as his paintings. After he first met Bella, Chagall said, “Her silence is mine, her eyes mine. It is as if she knows everything about my childhood, my present, my future, as if she can see right through me.” He created floating couples in his works to capture the celestial feeling of his love. In the early years of their marriage, Chagall included flowers in his paintings to celebrate their union, but these turned to funeral flowers after the war.

I had never learned to connect an artist’s personal situation with his/her work, and that lecture allowed me to see Chagall’s story and love for his wife in the details of his art. Over the Town, painted in 1918, captures weightless bliss in Chagall’s gray hometown.  The couple and a singular house provide the color of this work the same way that Bella brightened her husband’s world. I did not initially appreciate the appearance of this painting but learned that the historical and personal contexts are often more important. This understanding guided me through Art History, and the experience of that lecture brought me back every day of the trip and led me to this year’s class to discover the stories behind countless other paintings and sculptures.


  • 7:00 AM

Last Supper

Isabel Thomas
Tintoretto, Last Supper, 1592-1594

Last Supper by Tintoretto is my favorite work in Art History so far. Tintoretto’s colors envelop observers and bring them into another realm, stuck somewhere between Earth and Heaven, between Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead and the Messiah’s own Resurrection. Last Supper displays Tintoretto’s mastery of light and dark and his rich color use.

As the only two sources of light in this painting, Jesus and the lamp, which symbolizes the light of God, illuminate the scene and enlighten Jesus' guests. Tintoretto created wax models and observed them from different angles to ameliorate his use of light in this painting. Like other artists of this time and Mannerist painters, Tintoretto utilizes an extensive range of colors, and his tones create an eerie atmosphere without inducing uneasiness, especially in regard to the cloud-like spirits enclosing the work and its subjects.

Tintoretto reinvents a frequently-painted Biblical story by showing Jesus and his disciples not head-on, but from a diagonal viewpoint. This opens up the picture to include what happened behind the scenes. Tintoretto recounts the full story with servants who prepare this meal, clean it up, and allow it to take place.

This painting has no clear vanishing point. The diagonal lines seem to continue on into the remainder of Jesus’ life and his impact on the world for millennia to come. Judas sits on the opposite side of the table, as in usual depictions of this event, to symbolize his betrayal of Christ. This painting of the Last Supper looks the least arranged and most natural, with Jesus and his disciples actually interacting.

Tintoretto brought out the humanity of the Last Supper in his painting by making it more realistic and by bringing it into an environment more relatable to his audience. The aesthetic appeal of this painting allows me to escape from the stress and pace of life into this ethereal setting. Tintoretto used color inventively in Last Supper and set himself apart by testing boundaries. This painting’s ability to simultaneously calm and inspire creates an indescribable feeling for me and reaffirms my interest in the study of Art History.


  • 7:00 AM

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus and "Learning to Fly"

Isabel Thomas
Pieter Bruegel, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, 1555-58





A fatal attraction is holding me fast,
How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Icarus, son of the craftsman Daedalus, could not keep his eyes from the circling skies. Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, Icarus lost all rationality when his father fashioned him a pair of wings out of feathers and wax.  Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too far from the ground, but, once he took flight and found himself above the planet on a wing and a prayer, Icarus’s excitement replaced his reason, and he lost track of his distance from Earth. When Icarus noticed the feathers loosening from the melting wax of his wings, he realized that he had flown too close to the sun and remembered all of the unheeded warnings as he plummeted back to Earth.

 Like many of his other works, Pieter Bruegel’s Landscape with the Fall of Icarus has its subject in the background. Bruegel’s paintings are also distinguished by their incorporation of common folk, as exhibited by the worker in the foreground. While comical, the apparent insignificance of Icarus’s downfall symbolizes the lessened emphasis of such religious tales in an evolving society. Laborers replace religious figures, and the mix of secular and spiritual themes in painting characterize the Northern Renaissance.

 Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back.

  • 8:03 PM

Arnolfini Portrait

Arnolfini Portrait
Jan van Eyck, Arnolfini Portrait, 1434

While one may initially react to Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait with, “What is Vladimir Putin doing in a fifteenth-century painting,” the marvel of this work starts beneath the surface – literally. Through infrared reflectography, art historians revealed the steps of van Eyck’s creative process and found that he changed his original design as he worked in order to create a better balance and to fit his mental image. Van Eyck did not include elements such as the dog and chair in his original sketch. Some items also changed as the painting progressed, such as the length of Arnolfini’s fur robe.

The work offers a view into the wedding of Giovanni Arnolfini, a Tuscan merchant. Van Eyck creates a balanced, symmetrical picture using the mirror and chandelier in the middle and a switch from a brown color palette to one full of color. The joining of hands by the two subjects has the same effect as it draws the eye to the painting’s center. This unites the two sides of the work and symbolizes the union of Arnolfini and his bride. According to Michael Baxandall’s analysis of body language in art, the position of Arnolfini’s other hand represents demonstration.

The most striking aspect of Arnolfini Portrait lies in its detail. The robes and headwear worn by Arnolfini and his wife embody van Eyck’s artistic talent, especially through drapery and texture. The female subject has gentleness in her disposition that adds another level of emotion and humanity to the work. An open window brings light and openness into the room to guide them in their marriage.

The most impressive part of the painting, the mirror on the back wall shows the room from a different perspective with new subjects. Seeing that the entire canvas is only 32 inches by 23 inches, the immense detail in this mirror only grows more remarkable.

Jan van Eyck signed many of his works, ordinarily in the form of an inscription on the frame. The content and placement of these were strategically planned to show that each painting held specific meaning to its creator. These signatures depended on the painting and, in addition to being creative, usually provided a date of completion and the subject’s name and age. They allow modern observers to understand the emotion behind each work and put it within the context of art at that time and in that region.

In Arnolfini Portrait, van Eyck obviously meant for his signature to be a focal point, seeing that he placed it in middle of the picture between the two newlyweds. It translates to “Jan van Eyck was here,” which seems comical at first but shows that he put himself and his imagination into this painting – that he created it from nothing and left his presence on the canvas.

  • 7:00 AM

Know Your Chapeau: Mrs. Siddons

Isabel Thomas
Thomas Gainsborough, Mrs. Siddons, 1785

Considering the multitude of textures and color palettes in Gainsborough’s Mrs. Siddons, an observer has no reason to focus on the subject’s black chapeau, yet it draws the eye more effectively than any other element of the work. Gainsborough applies incredible richness in the red backdrop, and he designs textures that appear as real as an actual fur coat and capture the drama of a tragic actress like Sarah Siddons. His wholly different patterns and contrasting colors fill the work in a way that adds dignified intimacy without chaos or claustrophobia.

Gainsborough captures the softness of this renowned tragedian’s face with incredible care, and he most likely spent more time on this portion of the painting than any other. After weeks of effort on her proboscis alone, he exclaimed, “Confound the nose, there's no end to it!”

What about this hat, though? The striking black as well as its size and shape repeatedly steal attention away from the masterful beauty of the rest of the painting. Since this hat lacks the ornate texture of every other material in the portrait, it stands out even more than it would just by virtue of its enormity. The blackness has a peculiar effect, because this color ordinarily serves to define the brighter hues around it, but, in this case, it contrasts with every other part of the painting and creates a sort of void that provokes thought and further consideration of the work. So, well done, Gainsborough. By creating a hat, you keep people’s attention long enough for them to see the excellence of this painting.

  • 7:00 AM