My Kid Could Paint That

Andy Thomas, And the Band Played On, 2009

*** 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, cheeky overstatement, and occasional tales of ribaldry over the next couple of weeks.

Eadweard Muybridge, The Horse in Motion, 1878

Theo van Rysselberghe, Moonlight Night in Boulogne,  1919

By KARL SHEERAN

Jean-Francois Millet, Death and the Woodcutter, 1859

By KARL SHEERAN

Peter Paul Rubens, Leda and the Swan, 1600

By KARL SHEERAN

Leave it to Rubens to paint an avian erotic scene of Leda and Zeus. Zeus allegedly rapes Leda but I’m sure he would give a different account of the story given the opportunity. She becomes pregnant with his children but also of her husband’s, Tyndareus, children. She gives birth to two sets of twins, Helen and Pollux, and then Castor and Clytemnestra. Some say that they were born of an egg that Leda laid but I don’t want to know how she anatomically managed to lay an egg that contained two babies.

Normally artists of the Renaissance were hesitant to paint scenes of explicit sex, but Rubens brings in a whole other element found taboo and bestial. I know how the public felt about public scenes of sex, but I can’t imagine how they felt about a woman ravaged by a swan. Most likely they skipped Sunday afternoon walks in the park for a while. Rubens actually created this painting after Michelangelo originally painted it, but Rubens added passion and excitement to the background that Michelangelo decidedly left out. He utilizes various shades of grey in the storm clouds to display the turmoil Leda feels at the moment.

Peter Paul Rubens constructs this scene, one normally of emotion and violence, into one of passion. Leda appears accepting of the swan, allowing him access to her, as her left arm casually lays to her side, demonstrating little to no resistance to Zeus’s form.

John William Waterhouse, The Siren, 1900

By KARL SHEERAN

David Ligare ,Still Life with Candle, 1999

Going into surgery is not as easy as it sounds. It sounds simple, just walk into the waiting room as the anesthesiologist jabs a decently-sized needle into your arm and you feel cold distribute throughout your vessels as the sedative finds your nervous system. Simple right? As a kid, you cannot know what the smart, intimidating doctors are inserting into you, but you make it different. One time out of my many visits to the Emergency Room, the nurse was struggling to coerce the IV into the correct vessel in my arm in addition to dealing with my aversion to needles. But I looked over and saw you take over and it was a vastly different procedure. Despite the fact that you are my father, your calm demeanor and mental fortitude in the face of complications put me at ease as you cracked your typical Dad joke. “What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef. Funny one, Dad. 

Benjamin West, The Death of General Wolfe, 1770

By KARL SHEERAN

Good day to you sir, how are you on this fine London morning? May I interest you in this exquisite artwork, The Death of General Wolfe by Benjamin West? It exemplifies the glory and majesty of Great Britain during the Seven Years’ War. Oh excuse me, you are French? Well then I am sorry but you lack the capability to fully appreciate the beauty and elegance of Benjamin West.

Observe how the General lays on the ground. He looks up to the clear sky, up to the heavens as Christ did when he was brought down from the cross. The British flag leans to the right, as did the Cross itself after Jesus’ crucifixion. His lieutenant sits by his side, dressed in a somber blue, clutching a starch white handkerchief to where the General appears to have suffered a grievous wound but take notice of how clean his shit remains. As Our Lord was crucified upon the cross, Roman soldiers skewered him several times in his abdomen but it is said that he bled clean, pure water. General Wolfe oddly enough lacks a suspicious amount of blood stains but perhaps he bleeds water.

While the dear General lays on the ground, his concerned soldiers surround him, eleven of them if I am correct, in addition to an enemy Indian. Each of the soldiers represent one of the Disciples of Christ while the Indian is Judas. The enemy becomes a friend. He first conspires and fights against General but ultimately is concerned about his well being.  They all share expressions of sorrow on their faces at the death of their general.  

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1959

By KARL SHEERAN

Red veins fill everything. They fill the hands that write this post. On the surface, they appear a deep ocean blue, similar to the skin of a cadaver. The blue veins pass de-oxygenated blood through the body, back to the heart and lungs. The heart pumps the “blue” blood into the lungs, which then rejuvenate the blood, diffusing rich oxygen into the disc-shaped cells.

Rothko’s Untitled, 1959, pictures the seemingly-never-ending cycle of blood from blue to red, oxygenated to deoxygenated. Allow me to blow your mind with science. The average person lives 27,375 days and a blood cell lasts 120 days. Say a person goes through one blood cell at a time. They would go through 228 red blood cells in their life. Oh that’s not so much you think but only WISH that was it. The body contains 20-30 trillion red blood cells at any one time. That’s right, trillion with a T. In one lifetime, 5.7 quadrillion discs flow through the miles of veins, arteries, and capillaries, almost like bringing life-extending data on a CD to each individual cell. But that all has to come to a close in due time.

Rothko reminds us that while the cycle repeats for seemingly forever and a day, it eventually breaks off to complete it in a muddy burgundy. We enter into the world out of the void and live in the crimson red of oxygen, constantly exhausting it yet not appreciating the magnitude of work our body is capable of. We live unappreciative of everything that happens in our favor, ultimately perceiving such as we fade into the grey.

Caravaggio, David with the Head of Goliath, 1610

Pieter Bruegel, Peasant Wedding, 1567

Both the song “Latinoamerica” and Bruegel’s Peasant Wedding unify groups of people together into one unit. Calle 13, a band from Puerto Rico, wrote the song to combine all of Central and South America into a singular group. Albeit in Spanish, “Latinoamerica” describes many of the challenges many countries endured separately but they come together in hardship. Argentina fought over the Falkland Islands with England in 1982, but England won. In the 1986 World Cup, Argentina and Mexico faced off in the quarter-finals. Diego Maradona scored both of Argentina’s goals, the “Hand of God” and “Goal of the Century”, but the “Hand of God” was a handball disguised as a header. This represented Argentine vengeance against England for the Falklands War. The World Cup provided an even playing field for the two countries to compete on because in naval battle England’s navy far surpassed that of Argentina. That was only one example of a country’s hardship. Several countries throughout Latin America have undergone similar afflictions, but this has united them together as one. "Latinoamerica" sings of conflict but as well as shared cultural aspects. In may ways Breugel’s Peasant Wedding creates a visual representation of “Latinoamerica."

The painting epitomizes Bruegel's typical pieces, a scene of low-class workers at a random point in their lives where the subject is unidentifiable. This piece shows many impoverished people coming together to enjoy a meal, ignoring whatever differences they may have. "Latinoamerica" mirrors that as Calle 13 unites the 20 countries in Latin America and sends the message: Despite how different we all are, we are one.

Jan Van Eyck, Virgin with Child and Saints, 1443

Have you ever had a moment in your life when your mind exploded? If not, prepare your mind ravaged. On either side of Infant Jesus are two saints. The saint standing on the left is St. Barbara and the one on the right is St. Elizabeth. When St. Barbara was a child and known simply as Barbara, her father locked her up in a tower and kept her there until she would marry a wealthy man. While up there, she converted from paganism to Catholicism. Because of her conversion, she was tortured by her father and then by the leader of the province. One night in her cell, her prayers are answered and her wounds are healed. Barbara’s father decapitates her the following day. She was later canonized the patron of soldiers. A statue of Mars sits on the balcony behind the St.Barbara.

The saint to the left of Christ is St. Elizabeth, known as the patron of hospitals. After becoming a widow at a young age, she used her dowry to found a hospital and care for the sick. Stories have been told of miracles performed at her grave following her death. In this fashion, both St. Elizabeth and St. Barbara represent Jesus' attributes of caring and kindness. Jesus has been known to watch over people, as St. Barbara would. He sacrificed himself for the salvation of others, similar to the fashion that St. Elizabeth did.

Geography can change philosophy. The art of Southern Renaissance contrasts the Northern Renaissance art in terms of the backdrop. In Italian religious artworks, the background to the subject often shows some aspect of heaven, whether that be angels or Christ. Botticelli's "Mystic Nativity" epitomizes the Italian Renaissance with the circle of angels flying above the baby Christ. Van Eyck represents the geographical differences between Italian and Northern art with the town in the background of the "Virgin and Child with Saints." 

George Stubbs, Turf with Jockey Up, 1765

The setting sun disappears over the horizon as I light the lanterns around the house. I go out to check on Jesus' stable to ensure that the zombies or skeleton archers will not disturb him during the night. Every night zombies just pound on the door and try to get in. After checking on Jesus, I walk back to my simple wooden plank shack before the nightly assaults, whether they be skeleton archer or zombie. The fire crackles in the furnace as the raw meat slowly transforms into my dinner to keep my hunger meter filled. Before I learned that raw meat could be cooked to restore my energy, I would venture out into the wilderness and slay herds of cow everyday just to sate my appetite. I hang my favorite baseball hat beside the collection of zombie heads, diamond pickaxes, and diamond swords and settle down for the night.
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During the night, I hear "THWAP" against the house repeatedly from skeleton archers futilely trying to break in. The zombies pounding on the doors prevents me from fully replenishing all my hearts each night, so in the morning my health bar is not filled to the brim as it should be. But as the sun rises, the noises recede back with the darkness and all is serene. Unfortunately daytime is the only opportunity available to work the fields without disturbance from the nightly hordes, and so I work it tirelessly so that I may finish each day's work before the sun sets.

I have recently developed this backpack that allows me to carry up to nine different items at once. With it, I have become a walking armory even while working the fields. I hold my diamond swords, pickaxes, hoes, shovels, and my bow and arrow. A short time ago I stumbled upon an enchanted bow that only requires me to carry one arrow at a time and yet can fire limitless arrows. I have thus named the bow: "The Infinity Bow" but am ignorant of its durability. Zombies beware.

Anton Raphael Mengs, Dream of Saint Joseph, 1772

Through a modern perspective, Mengs's Saint Joseph looks as if he is done with his wife's nagging as she constantly reminds him to take out the trash, "Not again...just leave me in peace," as would be a recurring phrase in contemporary society.  But to bear in mind Baxandall's teachings, let us view this piece through another light.  

To coincide with older teachings, Joseph would dream of a son, but rather not his own son, but that of God's.  Here he learns of the annunciation of Christ through a dream.  And so by looking at the artwork as is from that time period, we see the true nature of the piece.  It is not a man weary from his wife's nagging, instead it portrays a rather a joyous moment in Joseph's life.  Perspective is imperative in any situation and key to learning about the whole picture.

Domeninchino, The Judgement of Midas, 1918

Fra Angelico, Penitent St. Jerome, 1424

Throughout the year, our class has looked at a plethora of pieces of art. I might say that we have become accustomed to whenever we see a lion in a painting, that it must be St. Jerome in the work. I was wondering why that was. 

So much swag oozes out of Jesus that if a man touched him, money would rain from the sky but as the man bent over to pick it up, the money would turn into five loaves of bread and two fish. Jesus would then touch these and they would transform into enough food to feed five thousand people. Jesus possesses too much power for any man or woman to touch him. He heals men of leprosy, paralysis, and even cleanses souls. This predates any form of modern medicine, making Jesus the first super doctor.

One of his earlier works, Noli Mi Tangere. Fra Angelico begins to experiment with perspective and introducing nature elements. He adds dimensionality to the tomb in which Jesus was buried by making the hole appear more than black oil on a wall, but rather a doorway into the unknown. I find it remarkable how Angelico can make piece of a wall appear multi-dimensional simply by altering the shading and the curving lines. He shades the upper portions of the overhang darker to signify shadows and how the light does not hit it. The grass shows how meticulous Angelico forces himself to be with extreme detail with each blade of grass and flower petal. I can distinctly see each cluster of weeds and tree branch full of leaves. Frangelico, too, oozes swag.

Giotto, Lamentation of Christ, 1305

“Oh Lord, what have I done?” thinks the bottom-right angel. God knows what else the other angels are thinking. Only the omnipotent Giotto could infuse so much emotion into a single piece.