My Kid Could Paint That

For those of you keeping up with current events, you may know that our current President, Mr. Donald Trump, is quite the fan of President Andrew Jackson and recently hung this here portrait of our former President in the Oval Office. Jackson has had a mixed reputation through the years. He’s clearly a love-him-or-hate-him kind of guy. Certainly, Jackson ran as a war hero and a pioneer for the common man and won on the back of that goal, but if you dive a little deeper into this President’s history and legacy, you’ll begin to understand why Andrew Jackson is easily one of my least favorite Presidents of all time and a clear addition to this list of terrible people.

For this post, the terrible person is twofold. Both Jean-Paul Marat, as the revolutionary martyr pictured here, and Jacques-Louis David, the painter, were intelligent, talented people gone bad. Picture it, just a few years before the French Revolution, the tension is mounting in the wake of the shockingly successful American Revolution due to french support. In Paris, he was just coming into the light of success after a series of acclaimed essays on philosophy, science, and government. January of 1789, the year the revolution began in Paris, Marat was still under the impression the monarchy might still be able to solve their country’s problems. However, by September, Marat’s writing began took a sharp new turn, shifting towards the movement of the revolution that would soon sweep his city as he took on the new role as editor of L’Ami du Peuple, a revolutionary newspaper. Marat grew more and more radical, drifting towards the more dangerous side of the revolution and befriending Maximilien Robespierre along the way while supporting the Jacobin faction of the revolution. With his newspaper he became a leader in inciting propaganda, stirring up the people to a point where he was nearly arrested upwards of three separate times. However, his fame began to grow to the point that it overruled those arrest warrants and, though a rogue, he was able to continue to work and write in paris. He worked particularly hard to bring down the Girondin revolutionary faction and to fuel the fires of violence. He became one of the most dangerous men of the early revolution from his place in the bathtub (he had a skin condition soothed only by hot baths) scrawling out scathing articles. On July 13th, 1793, he agreed to meet with a beautiful young girl, Charlotte Corday, claiming she wished protection from the violence, but upon stepping into the room where he was bathing, Corday pulled out a knife from under her dress, revealed her continued support to the Girondins, and stabbed Marat to death. As blood filled his bathtub, she ran, and without meaning to, his posthumous image as a martyr became an even stronger tally on the side of the Jacobins, who, led by Robespierre, would take this momentum and begin the Reign of Terror, arguably Paris’ most unjust and dangerous time.

But as I said, Marat is not the only one to blame. David, the painter, had taken on a similarly vocal role in the revolution and was a close personal friend to Marat. He, like Marat, rose to success shortly before the revolution began, painting beautiful neoclassical scenes like his famous Oath of the Horatii, which were widely popular in the increasingly revolutionary climate in Paris. When the revolution did break out, David, always the hidden radical, was quick to jump to the side of the Jacobins, entranced by their vision of a utopian Paris. He, too, became a master of propaganda, painting, rather than writing, his incredibly convincing pleas to the people. David himself had visited Marat in that very bathing room the day before his murder, and upon hearing what had happened, knew exactly what had to be done. David immediately jumped in to paint his friend as the martyr for the cause. The Jacobin Christ figure. An image so emotional and haunting it practically fueled the Jacobin rise to power and the subsequent horrors. 

But how could one not be moved by this portrait. The Death of Marat is unquestionably stirring. A man in his most vulnerable state, sitting naked in a bath in his own home, lays draped over the edge, head lolling back, defeated. His pen remains in his right hand while the other clutches the introduction letter from Ms. Corday, now smeared with his blood. A shadow has been cast across that side of the painting, as if to show his final breaths have just left his body. Directly behind his gaunt, quickly paling face, is a crimson pool, giving a horrifying image to represent the violence of his brutal murder. The white linen of purity surrounds Marat, right to his turban-like hat, framing his face almost like a fabric halo. Marat’s round visage and slightly parted lips are childlike and innocent. If you didn’t understand the mechanics of the revolution, you’d see this and come away telling a story of slaughter of the pure and well meaning. Of senseless violence robbing a poor man of his precious life. Of renewed support for the Jacobin side of the revolution. 

That’s what qualifies Marat and David for my list of terrible people. They might not have been the literal hands to drop the guillotine, but the two of them are at least significantly responsible for putting Robespierre and his Committee of Public Safety in a position to do so. Their sheer ability to create such moving emotional propaganda through their arts made these two master manipulators. At the time they likely believed they were doing what was best for their country. Don’t we all? The difference is, with a few strongly worded articles and a violent tribute to a lost friend, these two became responsible for the paranoid executions of 1400 people. Clearly a stunning work, it’s easy to get lost in the glowing tenebrism of this painting, just make sure that when all’s said and done, it’s something you can pull yourself out of.

For a king as endlessly selfish and insecure as Henry VIII, Hans Holbein blatantly plays into his arrogance and entitlement in this work. In the full portrait, Henry stands tall and immovable, with his wide shoulders and a puffed out chest like Superman, covered in jewels and rich fabrics, with sleeves fluffier than fourth of July marshmallows and a determined expression somehow coinciding with his incredibly beady eyes. Holbein was a genius in the kiss-up category, somehow managing to convey an exact physical likeness in a way that turns a pompous spoiled ruler with the maturity of a child into a noble, yet bullish commander, worthy of respect and leadership. The height of this visual adulation comes at Henry’s waist. His left hand holds a glove in a ringed hand, propped up on his belt, leading down to a rather large and visible codpiece. His other hand highlights the bottom of said piece. Everything from the red color to his stance emphasizes Henry’s (desired) superior virility, despite his famous inability to produce a male heir. This part of the painting is straight nonsense for Henry’s benefit. What's made all the better is that this painting was done when Henry was in his forties, as part of a midlife crisis of sorts. The whole things is absolutely laughable.

And yet it worked. In several accounts by onlookers of this portrait, placed in full view in his grand palace, it was astounding and intimidating to behold. Henry certainly got some bang for his buck with this piece. When you look at this magnificent portrait, it’s easy to forget about his temper tantrum that got him excommunicated by the church. It’s seems like one might be momentarily able to forget the roughly 72,000 people he executed on a brutal whim. One might be able to overlook the absolute dismemberment of the monasteries and cultural organizations that defined the day to day organization of English life. Looking on this magnificent portrait, one does not see Henry the wild narcissist. Instead, he’s replaced with the Henry he wanted to be but never was, triumphant and deserving. This alone shows the power and purpose of court painting, to promote. While people like Caravaggio lead us to think about the complex ethics and humanity of people we see as gods, the remaining paintings in this series will do the opposite. We will see human beings, desperately clawing for legendary and even holy status, like Henry here, who declared himself supreme leader of the English church.

It’s paintings like these that make us think of the point of view of the artist and encourage us to question the information we’re given. Above all else, this painting of Henry VIII shows just how impressive good propaganda can be.

Judas. Everyone knows one. Whether it’s an actual sell-you-out-to-the-Romans-with-a-gesture-of-love kinda guy, or Benedict Arnold, or just a friend you know will ditch you for her boyfriend at a party the first chance she gets, they're all over the place. Judas is arguably the worst sinner of all due to the severity of his crime and his level intimacy with and proximity to Christ. He lived by Jesus’ side for years, as his most trusted apostle, hand picked, who witnessed all of Jesus’ miracles, and handled the most sacred of tasks. Jesus, through his own divinity, understood that someone close to him had to be his betrayer long before Judas’ lips grazed his cheek, making the story all the more unbearable. Caravaggio’s greatest talent lies in bringing the world and stories of God and Christendom into the brutal light of primal humanity. Caravaggio strays away from painting holy people as anything other than everyday human beings and uses this theme to forge often violent depictions of these moments that are shocking and painful and most of all horrifyingly real.

Caravaggio uses this cramped composition to garner a feeling of intimacy between Jesus and the audience, and his lack of background (characteristic of his portraits but not his religious scenes) forces the eyes to focus all the more on the tension at hand. As a master of movement, you can feel the forward momentum of Judas and the guards, as emphasized by his hand gripping the shoulder of the teacher he’s just betrayed. Caravaggio uses color here to show us what we need to see. The dark armor of the soldiers makes them drift into the background, pushing us to look at three things in particular. First, the follower directly behind Jesus, St. John the Evangelist, screaming into the night. It’s difficult to know just from this painting whether he is attempting to flee or to get help but either way there’s no aid coming. Second, Jesus, Judas and the agony between the two. In this moment Jesus begins to understand his fate just as Judas starts to realize what a sin he’s just committed. Jesus turns from Judas, pulling back from his betrayer and the rushing soldiers behind him with a mixture of sadness and resignation on his face.  Finally, the onlooker behind the soldiers, a typical Caravaggio self-portrait, tucked in a back corner, holding up a lantern. Is this a symbol for the effect he wants his paintings to have on the audience, an illumination of the bible, or merely another opportunity for a self-obsessed painter to show the world how cool he is by casually dropping himself into one of the most crucial moments in Christ’s story? Likely both. There is also a third option, which might be equally as true, guilt. It’s no secret Caravaggio didn’t run with the nicest, or the most law-abiding people. And he has put himself in this painting, watching Jesus be carried off to his death, doing nothing and apparently not trying either. What’s more he’s staged behind the soldiers, compositionally helping in the strength of their push towards Jesus. To me this detail is also a statement of the guilt of the frozen witness. To quote, of all things, the musical Hairspray, “Just to sit still would be a sin.”

Clearly selling out christ for 30 silver pieces is an unbelievably horrific thing to do, particularly of someone of Judas’ position in Jesus’ group of followers. That much of the story is clear. So clear in fact that Judas is incapable of living with what he’s done and commits suicide shortly thereafter. But examining the big picture theological role of Judas is a little more muddled and complex. Without Judas’ terrible betrayal Jesus would not have been crucified, an act this powerful, the sacrifice is believed to have given pardon to all good, repenting Christians. It becomes complicated, is Judas somehow partially responsible for Christian salvation. Did this act of betrayal need to happen for the will of God to play out, and if so, was Judas acting as servant of God in this act or should he remain the lowest of the low? These are questions we must ask, yes because this is a biblical post, but also throughout this final series. Growing up, my mother always used to tell a story of one of her law professors of which the punchline is “All the world is gray. If you can understand that, one day, you might turn out to be a competent attorney. You might even turn out to be a halfway decent human being.” And when it comes to confronting this topic, with the lowest of the low, we have to see this concept and understand, if even for a moment, these terrible people are still that, people. Not black and white, or good and bad, but convoluted, indefinable, mixed up creatures with big brains and a particular propensity for illogical rationalization. Caravaggio’s mastery comes in making us see that.

Busting into the indie rock scene with their first hit album Myths & Monsters, this up-and-coming trio heads draws on older ideas and stories while incorporating the steady roller coaster of emotional expression and the juxtaposition of light and dark content you find in some of our more contemporary music.  Petal, Pauline, and Ruby, the founding members of this group, say the band came into being one day in late June while these music major friends were in Germany for the summer. One day while wandering the winding streets of the small village of Siegen, the girls bonded over a mutual desire to see a shift in the music world from the more grandiose and poised nature of the previous era to one that recognizes the same dramatic elements in a more realistic way. From this craving, they began to make music that brings classic images to life in the human world. Now, three years later, they're poised to top the list of next year's "Artists to Look Out For."

These imaginative (and busy) ladies often address issues of body image in their deeply sensual music. Sometimes they take a more individual look at humanity, while other times they bring to life stories we all know by heart, centering around the noble sacrifice, love, and devotion. Their smooth rhythmic beats seem to rock you in circles while more striking moments pop out here and there. Lyrically, their words seem to capture a vibrant image of life without ignoring the darkness in the background of it. They have a way of making their audience feel the conflict they're expressing while maintaining a focus on the emotion of it all.

When interviewed about their process, the girls took a humble stance, best summed up by Ruby's comment, "We're just simple women standing alone with our instruments, asking God for inspiration." To which, Pauline added, "Every child has the spirit of creation. The rubbish of life often exterminates that spirit. We're just looking to get back to that." The girls expressed a fondness for their fans and supporters as well as their countless mentors and heroes from which they take such inspiration. By the end of our little chat, they'd convinced me that their popularity is best attributed to a recognition of their own passion for the work as well as their focused transformation of archetype stories into relatable yet lively tunes. Whether or not that's something you believe, there is no doubt that they're a talented trio.

This album has kicked off a long European tour that will end in Antwerp the last week of May. Check out their music on iTunes, SoundCloud, and Spotify. @TheBulkyBabes

The story of the Palazzo Barberini starts with a Pope. Urban VIII, formerly Maffeo Barberini, was a religious man from a powerful Italian family that reached their height right around the time their great villa-style palace was constructed. During Urban VIII's reign he set out to beautify Rome, and in 1627, construction began on this building, as a way to glorify the family and a place to hold parties and enjoy the finer things that were still allowed by Catholicism. Urban and his brother Taddeo were very involved in this commission, arguably more than most. While the ideas for the villa-esque layout and facade originated in the heads of these brothers, the reality and the nuance of every building belongs to the architect. Or in this case, architects.

Let's start at the beginning. Even though we're really talking about Bernini and Barberini, the first architect to try their hand on this building was Carlo Maderno. After only a few years, Maderno died, leaving his brilliant assistant, Borromini, behind. Urban, a fan of Bernini at the time, caught up in his popular glow, assigned him to be the chief architect of this project. Borromini feared he'd lose his job, but Bernini was a sculptor, not an architect, and asked him specifically to stay on due to his engineering brilliance. Only Borromini could find a way to bring Bernini's designs to life. After all, what good are a building's plans if they can't be executed?

I love this building for many reasons, particularly the fact that this is really one of two buildings in the world that had both Borromini and Bernini invested and making an impact on it. There are a million things I could dive into with this building, but, for sheer lack of time and space, I'll focus on two aspects of the building that make up a single perfect metaphor. Stairs.

There are two main staircases in this funhouse. First the left side stairs, the main stairs. Bernini's attempt to display the grandeur of the Barberini family with a single feature. These stairs are classical in style, and angular, with tall pillars, and covered in relics and statues built into the very walls. It's certainly grand, but without a clear understanding of space and engineering, these stairs... well... kind of miss the mark. They're a little cramped, a little bland, a little unoriginal. Not bad, but it's clear Bernini has other "areas of expertise."

Then there are the right set of stairs, the only part of the building totally created by Borromini, and you can tell. They're different from the rest of the house. And one glance shows you why. Borromini's stairs curve up in a gorgeous elipse, white and glorious while retaining all the grace white marble should have. In the classic Borromini style, his stairs seem to make rock malleable, curving and bending at his will. These stairs, his silky fingerprint on this massive palace, are the essence of Borromini, the simple, natural beauty of his work.  

While Bernini is likely the greatest sculptor in history, these stairs are on example of Borromini transcending his architecture game in an undeniable way. This pair would feud after this until their deaths yet their cooperation has left its mark on Rome in a way that we can still see today. 

By LIBBY ROHR

It's characterized Baroque by the dramatic posing and theatrical composition, however, Caravaggio transcends that game. The Calling of St. Matthew exemplifies the most famous and unique facets of his work, the tenebrism, the modern dress, and, most of all, the depiction of real people carrying out the events of the Bible. Each person in this work lives, breathes, and moves before your eyes in unabashed realistic detail. Anyone who might look on this painting could see the events of Matthew's life in a way that may as well be in a small room down the street, not some magical far off land years and years ago. He brings religion to life.

Jesus is a professional model.  He speaks in that Zoolander voice. He knows how to pose. He's the kind of hot that doesn't even have to look in the mirror. He doesn't have to comb his hair, but he did spend six hours the other day styling his beard. The two pointed look is really en vogue right now. He's bringing sexy all the way back to 15th century. No wonder Christianity caught on. Look at those abs. That muscle definition. The soft alabaster skin. The flowing hair. The sloping calves. The tiny white mini-skirt. What more could you want from the Lamb of God? If God created this Jesus in his image, then God must be smoking. Even the angels agree. They're blushing so hard their wings are turning color. That never happens. Even John the Baptist can't help but to stare. I mean look at those collarbones! It makes me consider the literal interpretation of a "divine glow." Holy men congregate in hordes behind him. They're not staring at his butt in that insanely short wrap. Of course not. They're definitely just here for the spiritual stuff. Definitely. This Jesus is making idolatry pretty tempting. Forget your "french girls," Leo, paint me like 15th century Jesus.

Well done, Limbourg brothers. From the trio that brought us a slew of over-the-top rich people festivals and a line of farmers using the chamber pot,  Paul, Jean, and Herman Limbourg now grace us with the presence of sexy Jesus, one of the most appealing forms of Jesus out there. Hey, if you can't get them interested in scripture, maybe you can entice some converts with this masterpiece. Unfortunately for the masses, these French masters were experts at illumination and in particular creating illustrations for customized books for the upper class. 

Often time religious works of this era were created to educate, stir emotion, and add a visual accompaniment to help better understand these stories as the life of the son of God. As a result, many frescoes in the early Renaissance featured nondescript, "ordinary" faces that reflect the type of people that would be seeing their works in an effort to connect the audience to the stories. The figure of Jesus, obviously, offered the least room for interpretation. He is always pictured with relatively dark hair that curls at the bottom and a full beard in an effort to ensure the accuracy of the image. Yet, looking at works like this one it would be hard to believe it wasn't at least slightly tailored to the audience. For one thing, these figures are all European, not Middle Eastern like Jesus would have been. The the incredibly white skin and the auburn hair for one suggest that the Jesus in this image is french like its onlookers. Furthermore the landscape of this work, from the sloping mountains, deciduous trees, and the Gothic castle behind them, is decidedly French. Between these connecting factors, the accuracy of the image presented, the vibrancy and the skill of the painting itself, and Jesus's glorious form, this illumination goes above and beyond its requirements and showcases the (smokin') work of true masters.

Sandro Botticelli has been a favorite of mine since I first laid eyes on his work as a young child, gazing up at the beautiful copy of Primavera on my best friend's wall. His figures are as distinctive as Fragonard's trees in their soft glowing skin and gracefully clothed bodies. In The Mystic Nativity, we see new emphasis on nature similar to that of Primavera, but with a stronger message. The robes of several of the angels seem to flow into the elements of the earth around them through the use of the deep green color. The inclusion of the forest background, greenery in the hands of angels, and the natural landscape of the foreground shows the placement of heavenly value on the natural world. To include so much nature in in such an auspicious scene with such godly figures extends an auspicious and godly status to these earthly aspects in a way that has not existed in art before this time. Recently, we read a passage in class from Pico Della Mirandola's Oration on the Dignity of Man which says that human beings were put on Earth "to ponder the plan of so great a work, to love its beauty, and to wonder at its vastness." As art progresses, Botticelli lives out this purpose in the exploration of a holy natural earth in his work as well as the emphasis of the interaction between man and the angels. 

Botticelli's use of color in the verdant greens and rosy pinks gives this painting its graceful nature. Mary and Jesus are framed by their shelter first and then again on all sides in the figures of the angels and onlookers. In a ring at the top of the painting, angels rejoice in the heavenly realms, serving as a portal to the unthinkable, to God. In composition, this painting can be split in thirds horizontally, the bottom representing life on Earth, the top representing the existence of heaven, and Jesus in the middle as the bridge between God and man. In the lower third of the painting, we see images of angels embracing humans as further demonstration of this bond. In the realm of Jesus under God, all are equal and at peace. Olive branches appear in the hands of every angel in the painting. The sharp, twisting road to Jesus shows the difficulty and the specificity of following Jesus's "way." However, as the Bible promises to good Christians, Christ himself is waiting at the end.

In the bottom third of the composition. If you look closely, you'll notice four grotesque figures of the devil. My personal favorite happens to be the blue one in the bottom right, with curly horns like a ram and a disgusting warthog face. Each one of these satanic figures is crawling back beneath the earth to hell. In the presence of Jesus, they can no longer exist on the earthly plane. Botticelli tells us that through Jesus's education for the world, he rids us of sin. There is no idea more en vogue for the Renaissance than this idea of humans as chosen beings and transcendence through education and study. Mirandola claimed human beings to be, as pictured in this painting "the intermediar[ies] between creatures, the intimate of the gods, [and] the king of the lower beings." Our free will is what makes us human. We have choice to either "degenerate into lower forms of life" or "to be reborn into higher forms." Whether or not you happen to believe in God, the idea of free will, choice, and following a path of love or hate is the thread that binds every human being together. At first glance, this may resemble a simple nativity scene, however this message to humanity is what makes it "Mystic." Although this is a deeply religious work, any person could walk up to this painting and feel the message of optimistic life through peace and the utopian world so many of us strive for.