My Kid Could Paint That

Giorgione, Pastoral Concert, 1510

Undeniably one of Venetian Renaissance art's most mysterious works, Pastoral Concert embodies the allegory of poetry and the divinity of Arcadia thanks to the works of Giorgione. Although controversy stirs over who the painting is accredited to, with Giorgione's death in 1510 and his close partnership with Titian, the composition with no doubt follows the themes of poetry omnipresent in quite a few of Giorgione's other paintings. Additionally the figures of the women, the depth of the background in the endless valleys and mountain, and the muted storm-like sky pay tribute to Giorgione's respective style.

Nonetheless the scene evokes meaning in the actions of the figures, as the naked women are positioned on each side of the men depicting the Muses of poetry. The standing figure pouring water from a glass jar represents the superior tragic poetry, while the seated one holding a flute reflects the less prestigious pastoral poetry. Between these naked women is a well-dressed, upper class youth playing a lute with a man who looks like a 16th century peasant version of Napoleon Dynamite listening intently to the music.

The scenery is characterized by the concept of duality and harmony between the various classes through different forms of literature and music. What struck me most interesting in this painting however, was the Mannerist allusion to Arcadia, which became popular in its vision of pastoralism and unity with nature during the Renaissance era. Moreover, many subjects of paintings began to incorporate the imagery of women in lush forests in reference to the Greek story of Arcadia: Hera banishes the nymph Callisto to a lush forest, while imprisoning her in the figure of a bear as a punishment for sleeping with Zeus. In the end of the legend, Callisto's son encounters his mother in the Arcadia but does not recognize her, so he slays the bear before acknowledging the animal's true identity.

Tragic, the story really is. However, what's most interesting about this legend is that Giorgione paints these gracefully naked women in his composition to express the divinity of their beauty in harmony with their parallel to literature during this time period. But if you look closely, the men aren't even acknowledging the women's existence. So, the real speculation is if these women are actually present in the concert or if they are supernatural. It's arguable that in fact these women are representations of the nymph Callisto and her story in the utopian aura of Arcadia, as her true beauty is dismissed by the masking face of the bear. Giorgione might be on the verge of some pressing feminist ideals by addressing their divinity in assimilation to the concept of appreciating women in the muses of poetry as artists move towards Mannerism and intellectual sophistication. But who really knows... the painting could in fact just be a group of individuals enjoying a concert in the open air on a mildly cloudy day.

Hieronymus Bosch, Garden of Earthly Delights, 1510

In the wise words of art historian Mathew Collings: "What the hell is that?"

Hell. That's precisely what Hieronymus Bosch intended for his Garden of Earthly Delights to encompass.

Bosch illustrates three panels, the left being the Garden of Eden, the central being an extension of the garden, and the right being Hell. However, the Northern Renaissance artist depicts the salvation of humanity through the central and right panels, in which the Garden of Eden is corrupted as a result of human temptation to sin, and they are inevitably damned to hell. The garden teems with female and male nudes, an allusion to lust, among a variety of animals, plants, and fruits. Moreover, the human figures revel in innocent, self-absorbed joy as some cavort in the meadows with various animals and others play in the Lake of Venus subconsciously. And in reaction to the humans who have succumbed to temptations, Bosch creates heinously graphic torments to depict their internal damnation to a world of unknown atrocities and misconceptions of reality.

And if isn't depressing enough that Bosch basically claims that all of humanity will end up in Hell and constructs a scene of indecipherable madness, the artist also touches on the notion of an inescapably tainted world and questions whether God, having made this world and bestowed on man the opportunity for liberty, should destroy his creation in the face of human failure. In fact, as society has only worsens with time, Bosch's very questioning of God and the corruption of humanity becomes prevalent in modern day society.

"That's me in the corner, that's me in the spot light, losing my religion, trying to keep up with you, and I don't know if I can do it."

Oddly enough, R.E.M's "Losing My Religion" touches not on the specificity of religion itself, but on the loss of hope in the singer's love life because of the human temptation and corruption that has risen over time. In the south, the expression "losing my religion" referred to being at the end of one's rope, that moment when civility gives way to anger. Here, R.E.M's somber language depicts the hopeless of humanity and a loss of an ideology (the end of one's rope) through the omnipresence of human indulgence. The song allows us to question the purpose of civilization if the act of sin, be it lust or anger, interrupts the ability to be content and as Bosch would say, sends you straight to hell.

"Consider this, the hint of the century. Consider this, the slip, that brought me to my knees, failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around? But that was just a dream, try, cry, why try. That was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, dream."

The song concludes with the illusion of the singer's sin himself, as he acknowledges that that his lover's joy was "just a dream", and now he has awoken to his own Hell, as he loses himself in the free will God has given him and contemplates his purpose on Earth if he has lost his religion.

Pieter Bruegel, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, 1595

Sir Thomas Lawrence, Lady Peel, 1827

Belonging to the age of Romanticism and what was known as the "golden age" of British portraiture, Sir Thomas Lawrence displays his instinctive skill of depicting the British mannerisms in his subjects. Observing his father's tavern customers as a child, Lawrence quickly picks up on the characteristics of the rich and poor men and women-- especially the fashionable female ones-- and takes on a career as a draughtsman at the age of 10.

With Lawrence's unique sense of Romantic style, the English painter takes a new approach to his painting techniques that nevertheless parallels to emotion seen in numerous portraits in art history. In almost all of his paintings we see a dreary, storm-like background. His subjects stand out in their unique clothing styles and Lawrence's choice of palette, which often times contrasts heavily to the background as a result of the glimmering highlights.

In Sir Thomas Lawrence's Lady Peel, we see a prime example of the painter's fine work. Undoubtedly, the painting follows Lawrence's uniform portrait stencil with a gloomy sky for a background that contrasts to the woman's darkly-draped clothing and her flamboyant red hat. However, I chose this painting not to focus on the fierceness of her hat, but to address how Lawrence effectively utilizes this hat along with her fur coat and gold jewelry as a juxtaposition to the softness that is captured in Lady Peel's face.

The red hat frames the woman's angelic facial expression and compliments the rosy flush in her cheeks. Lawrence paints highlights in the woman's eyes, which look straight at the viewer, to give the piece a somber feeling. To be honest, Lady Peel looks miserable. Maybe she imagined Lawrence to be much some dreamy rugged painter and was dissatisfied with his appearance? Or maybe it's the layers of heavy clothing that make her so uncomfortable that she can't conceive another expression?

Regardless, I believe that Lawrence tries to parallel this unhappiness in her face to the Eurocentric significance that is put on one's status of wealth during the 1800s. By having Lady Peel dressed in expensive attire, the painter might be implying that materialism does not effectively fill these voids of human identity, which everyone searches for at one point or another.

I'm sure in this century many of us wish to rock the hat-game that Europe's elite created in the early 1800s. However, it's important to reflect on the implications of Thomas Lawrence's work, that so perfectly addresses the worthlessness of materialism relative to modern day society.

Sandro Botticelli, Madonna of the Pomegranate, 1487

Clearly I can't get enough of Botticelli's work, as I have yet another painting to present.

Despite being one of his later works, Botticelli demonstrates the same exquisiteness seen in his art by paying attention to color and emotion in his subjects of Madonna of the Pomegranate.  

The Virgin Mary holds Jesus in her arms, which Botticelli purposefully illustrates as oversized to symbolize Mary's motherly role in Jesus' birth and death. The six angels gather around the mother and child; their length not only demonstrates proportion, but also creates support for the painting in substitution for the lack of architecture. While they sit under the heavenly light, the subjects' faces provide a solemn environment for the painting, as they morn about the eventual crucifixion and death of Christ.

Although this painting is often referred to as holistically Biblical, the renowned artist does not fail to interject his favoritism for Greek Mythology. Botticelli paints a pomegranate in the child's hand to parallel this work to the myth of Proserpina. Hades imprisons Proserpina in Hell, but Hermes comes to rescue her as ordered by her father Zeus. In order to restore her freedom, Hades forces Proserpina to eat six pomegranate seeds as a representation of fidelity in their marriage. Proserpina must now spend six months with her traitorous husband, and the other six with her mother. Returning in the springtime, her mother decorates the home with welcoming flowers to compose a colorful and euphoric landscape. In the fall when Proserpina returns to Hades, the nature loses its color and joy is lost.

What I'm trying to get at here is that Botticelli applies this symbolism of the pomegranate in the Greek myth to the resurrection of Jesus in the spring and the joy of Christian community that is brought by his rebirth. Moreover, we see that Botticelli's colorful palette and illustration of the flowers on the most left angel are paying attention to Proserpina's story.

As Botticelli strategically crafts this piece of art, we as viewers are forced to look at the composition through Michael Baxandall's period eye. By looking at Botticelli's other works and then returning to this piece, the audience is forced to resist the instinctive "visual perception that ceases to be uniform, from one man to the next" (Baxandall 29). Botticelli's paintings are a prime example of period eye, as works like Primavera, the hilarious Mars and Venus, and Mystic Nativity all share an underlying theme about the painter's societal views on the class system or the time period's cultural impacts of religious suppression.

Here Madonna of the Pomegranate follows Baxandall's theory of symbolism through the color palette, as well as through the Rule of Three. The painting follows what Baxandall would consider a graceful, vibrant, and powerful composition, which speaks to the movement of art in Renaissance society, religious turmoil, and Botticelli's positive outlook on the future. In Baxandall's The Painting & Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy, he concludes by discussing how "the forms and styles of painting respond to social circumstances. It is symmetrical and proper to suggest that the forms and styles of paintings may sharpen our perception of the society" (151). Botticelli proves to follow Baxandall's ideologies in Madonna of the Pomegranate by implying that despite the religious turmoil the Renaissance is facing, there will eventually be change and restoration of peace in Roman society. Moreover, as this painting correlated with the start of Botticelli's fascination with Girolamo Savonarola, the artist may be force-feeding his audience his perspectives on his mentor's demand Christian renewal.

Regardless, I tip my hat to you Botticelli, for once again amazing me with the symbolism of your paintings, of which have most certainly altered my perception of Renaissance and modern day society.

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511                                            Unknown, Athena Giustiniani, 17th Century

In Raphael's School of Athens, the phenomenal painter purposefully segregates the painting by categorizing the left side as philosophers of mathematics, science, poetry, and music, while the right side is composed of masters in realism, logic, and ethics. To further demonstrate this division in philosophy, Raphael juxtaposes Apollo on the left side to Athena on the right side.

Sandro Botticelli, The Mystic Nativity, 1500

Oh Botticelli, what exactly have you crafted for us here...?

Sandro Botticelli, Primavera, 1478

Absolutely breathtaking. Maybe it's the characters' heartfelt expressions or the painstaking attention to detail in the meadow. But, wait. Where is Christ? Why on earth are there no saints?

Commissioned by the Medici family as a present for their newlywed family members, Sandro Botticelli seizes this moment to break from tradition by creating a large scale mythological scene with Venus as the central figure. Botticelli captures sensuality and fertility in this painting as encompassed in the ornate background and the other figures in the painting. Moreover, legend has it that the Medici family had a orange grove on their property, so Botticelli parallels the oranges to the notion of hopefulness in marriage and the opportunity to produce "fruit" for their family.

However on the right-hand side, Botticelli exhibits tension between Zephyr and Chloris to emphasize the conflict that arouses between marriages as a result of male domination in 15th century culture. According to Greek mythology, Zyphyr, the wind of March, kidnaps the nymph Chloris to marry her. Chloris then becomes the goddess of Spring and eternal bearer of life. Botticelli warns the viewers of the obstacles marriage can bring, as the artist illustrates frail trees and a lack of fruit to parallel to the lack of respect for women and how that may affect their inability to produce "fruit." Botticelli conclusively highlights the recurrence of oranges above the pregnant Flora to re-enforce the notion of respect for women in this dynamic.

Botticelli continues to reference these advanced ideologies throughout Primavera, as demonstrated in the relationships of the Graces, Cupid, and Mercury. Nonetheless he continues to depict emotion, depth, and detail in the figures and their surroundings that seems prevalent in almost all of his work. Most importantly, while this painting breaks from the Renaissance artistic structures and religious definition, Botticelli proves to address this notion of human interaction. Creating an new, abstract representation of beauty through the botanical gardens and Greek figures for the public to reflect on, we see that the lack of religious infliction only benefits Botticelli's status as a renowned and respected artist in the coming centuries.

Giotto, The Miracle of the Spring, c. 1300

Fourteenth in Giotto's fresco series in the Upper Church of St. Francis, The Miracle of the Spring tells of St. Francis's journey to the monastery of Monte la Verna. Accompanied by two Franciscans, a peasant (kneeling), and his donkey, the journeyers become parched on this obscenely hot day. Tormented by this thirst, the peasant pleads for water. St. Francis prays fervently to God, and water comes bubbling out of the rocks in answer. In relief the peasant collapses at the spring, thanking St. Francis for his prayers.

Giotto's fresco clearly exhibits this tale with St. Francis's position as the center of the descending mountains in the background. Giotto illustrates light on the right-hand mountain to emphasize the godly status of St. Francis as a result of ministering to the poor. Moreover, as the eye trails towards the lower left corner of the fresco, Giotto creates emotion through the Franciscans glances on the scene, which suggests Giotto's admiration of the saint's humble actions to reflect the beauty of Franciscan lifestyles and ideologies. Lastly, Giotto juxtaposes the light with the darker mountain on the left and the suggested lines that lead to the peasant quenching his thirty. Giotto utilizes this contrast to suggest that St. Francis has not only restored the peasant's physical health, but has also satisfied the peasant's spiritual refreshment and enlightenment from his spiritual darkness.

When studying this painting and Franciscan lifestyle, I was astonished by how advanced some of St. Francis's ideals were. While followers strive to cultivate the founder's beliefs, they must emulate St. Francis's spirit through teachings, social service, and charity. Most emphasized in St. Francis's writing of this lifestyle was the respect of other's beliefs and St. Francis's request for his followers to reflect that admiration for others through humbleness. Giotto stresses the significance of the spring and spiritual refreshment to complement the Franciscan way of life.

While we're now in the twenty-first century, I think it's important to look back on this idea of spiritual refreshment and humbleness. I admire Giotto and St. Francis for encompassing perspective through their works. Looking at this piece, I reflect on times of stress and stubbornness that seem to have overtaken the past few months as my classmates and I apply to colleges, juggle after-school activities, and try to maintain a social life. Acknowledging the originality of these men's ideas, I blur out the chaos in the background in hopes find some sort of refreshment that I can carry out in the months ahead of me.

Peter Paul Rubens, Adam and Eve, 1598

The first story of the third day in The Decameron begins with Masetto of Lamporecchio pretending to be deaf mute and becoming a gardener at a convent. While working in the garden, Masetto discovers the nuns of the convent disregard their faithfulness to God in order to fulfill their "feminine longings." Eventually, the nun's craving for lust overwhelms Masetto, as he unlocks his lips and confesses about the nuns' sins.

In this story, Boccaccio mocks the status of women, created by male and religious dominance, in the 14th century. During this time period, young women were obligated to preserve their virginity or marry into wealth and motherhood; those who couldn't afford to marry off were often sent to convents to prevent impurity. Boccaccio utilizes the setting of the garden to parallel Masetto and the first nun to Adam and Eve.

The first nun states, "I wonder, whether you have ever considered what a strict life we have to lead, and how the only men who ever dare step foot in this place are the steward, who is elderly, and this dumb gardener of ours. Yet I have often heard it said, by several of the ladies who have come to visit us, that all the pleasures in the world are mere trifles by comparison with the one experienced by a woman when she goes with a man."

This sexual curiosity emulates that of Eve's sin in the Garden of Eden, which is also illustrated in Eve's gaze at Adam in Rubens Adam and Eve. Intrigued by this intimacy, the nun argues, "We are constantly making Him promises that we never keep! He can always find other girls to preserve their virginity for Him." This temptation to sleep with Masetto and encouragement of the other nuns to follow the first nun, echoes the first nun's defiance of God much like Eve's defiance of God when she eats the fruit and then tempts Adam to join her.

However, Boccaccio's short story addresses the overarching theme of human nature and the inability to suppress such instincts. Despite the nuns' faithfulness to God, the opportunity to satisfy the women's sexual curiosity outweighs the obligations of an ideal young woman in the 14th century. Portrayed in Adam and Eve, Rubens outlines sexual tension between Adam and Eve, further supporting that this instinctual desire cannot be prevented. Resonating with Boccaccio's tale of the convent, the author leaves us questioning if the nuns' actions were indeed sinful, as the nuns conclusively look to God once again for forgiveness.

Unknown, Garbhadhatu (Taizōkai) mandala, 9th Century

On the first day of Art History class, the students were told to walk across the room towards a wall consumed by pictures of art and tear off all the pictures except one that caught our attention the most. Initially, as I tore at the pages taped to the classroom wall, I was caught by the rich reds and cobalt blues that echo the repetition within the Garbhadhatu (Taizōkai) mandala -  translated as Womb World. However as I looked closer at the 9th century art piece, it became strangely familiar, drawing me back to my childhood memories.

From what I can recall, my mother had dragged me along to what seemed like the fifteenth furniture store as she tried to satisfy her obsessive redecorating phase. We stepped into a local oriental shop overwhelmed by Buddhist statues and golden gongs, and before I knew it I was scrambling for my mother whom I had lost a few seconds before hand. While I was searching, my eye caught this Womb World mandala that stretched from ceiling to floor. Alone, I stared at the piece in confusion and awe, trailing the shift in colors and interactive pattern until I was awoken by the familiar sound of my mother's scolding as she bargained with the owner for a cheaper price on a Buddha head.

The Womb World mandala represents a metaphysical space within Vajrayana Buddhism. In the center sits the Vaicrocana Buddha, and surrounding him are eight buddhas and bodhisattvas. Within the Buddhist ideologies, the Vaicrocana Buddha represents a concept of emptiness, more commonly known as selflessness and the act of liberation by learning from one's surroundings. While this piece meant nothing to my childhood-self, the Buddhist ideologies illustrated in the Womb World mandala now resonate with the start of my last year of high school. As I catch glances of the light at the end of this tunnel, I find myself looking at this ending the way I looked at the artwork when I first saw it: in confused and awe. Conclusively, I don't want to be awoken by the sounds of familiarity. Instead, I hope to achieve as the Vaicrocana Buddha does by becoming enlightened with selflessness, and rather opening myself up to unknown perspectives, people, and experiences in this finale.