My Kid Could Paint That

Structure and Paintings
Analyzing Architecture and Perspective within Paintings
Curated by Max Cantu-Lima

Johannes Vermeer, The Little Street, 1657

Our next stop on the use of architecture within paintings covers the idea of material and sustainability. A large detail that decides the structure of a building is its material. Choosing this, the architect must take into consideration the location and weather so that the building will not be at risk of collapsing due to infrastructure complications. The use of brick has been the longest and strongest building material used around the world, its first appearance in Europe found in Greece during the twelve century. During the Baroque period, beginning around the year 1600, exposed brick went out of popularity. Brick work was instead covered with plaster. Brick was often the material of choice for economic and time reasons.

Vermeer is truly a master with the brush. His paintings contain such a level of detail that from a distance his work could be confused with photographs. The style which he paints this home, varies between thick application on the shutters, to the dabbing on the brick where the canvas peeks through in certain spots. The Little Street is a little painting that depicts a common place building in Delft. While the painting is quite famous, little is actually known about it. Whether this building ever existed is still disputed to this day as art historians attempt to trace back through history. Regardless of its actual location, the building appears worn down by time and weather. Uncharacteristic for Vermeer, who mostly painted portraiture,  produced a painting within the city he had recently painted before hand, A View of Delft.

Besides the incredible portrayal of detail, Vermeer captures the beauty of the common wealth home. The way he layers the homes behind this sturdy structure in the foreground. The main building provides a sense of security and durability. As an art history student, I know that dogs normally mean loyalty. This building has been relied on and will continue to be trusted because this is not a wealthy part of town. Without the money to erect glamorous Baroque buildings people relied on these brick homes. The growing plant on the left is a reminder that architecture, especially now, has to coexist with nature and be aware of its presence.  But in terms of the time period this was painted in, the plant stands for this working class part of town, full of life.

Johannes Vermeer, View of Delft, 1660

This painting of Delft, Johannes Vermeer's hometown, shows a view from the south of the River Schie and the town itself behind. Not much bigger than a square meter, the intricate masterpiece shows immaculate care and attention to detail. A miniature clock on the Schiedam Gate proclaims the time to be just past seven o'clock, which the beautiful morning sky behind attests to. Cityscapes were uncommon at the time, especially of this quality. The abrupt cutoff of the buildings at the edge of the painting, while natural to someone accustomed to twenty-first century photography, would have been startling to a Rennaissance contemporary.

Possibly, to help plan his composition, Vermeer used a device called a camera obscura. The matter is hotly debated by art historians, since no concrete evidence for the theory exists other than the attention to detail in his paintings. Rather than use a series of lenses to focus light, a camera obscura uses a pinhole to project an image of its surroundings onto a screen. The image comes through upside-down, but with all other elements preserved. It can then be traced and used as a reference. Modified camera obscuras, which project light onto photographic paper, are still in use today by extra-pretentious photographers who like the blurred, indistinct effect and long exposure times.

To perfectly recreate the colors and texture, Vermeer actually mixed sand into his paint in areas. The reflections in the water are gorgeous, with minute specks of light done in almost-pointilist style. However, the View of Delft is not perfectly photorealistic. Vermeer arranged the buildings for a better composition, spreading them out and shortening many of the narrow towers. The effect of the reflections in the water and the gap in the clouds directly above pushes the viewer's eye inward and upward. In the end, the piece is a stunning memorial to Vermeer's home town, saluting the rich history of the buildings and providing a look into history - not as a perfectly realistic photograph, but an idealized portrait.

Jan Vermeer, The Milkmaid, 1658

I would not call her the picture of adolescent beauty. To be honest I think Vermeer used an Olympic male swimmer to model for her shoulders. I mean, come on, you don’t get muscles like those milking cows. Or maybe you do? I might live in Kansas, but I do stay a fair distance away from cows. She is not even the focus of the painting though. Our direction is drawn to her hands, the chore she is performing. Her devoutness to the household she serves. The emotional pull towards the painting comes from her honest and hard work.

Vermeer’s works consist mainly of scenes depicting wealthy families, clothed in fine robes and furs, taking part in things exclusively for the privileged, i.e. The Music Lesson. However, the scene here strikes the viewer as entirely different. The intimacy within the painting cannot be missed. Where there used to be a wall separating the viewer from the scene, Vermeer chooses to allow the Milkmaid to solely encompass the scene. He is able to take something so domestic, so mundane and make it feel like a piece of heaven -  something sacred and special. He takes care in panting every detail because he realizes its importance to the painting as a whole. The window adds light and warmth to the scene, the copper pot and basket relate back to the milkmaid’s act, and lastly the foot warmer in the corner shows the maids diligence in performing her job.

The colors in the painting appear calmer than the ones characteristic to Vermeer. Simple blues, whites, and yellows. It is almost as if Vermeer is saying look what I can do with a limited palate, look what I can create. The single silhouette against the bare wall, the vessels, breads and baskets all shine in the light that pours in from the window. The objects all have points where shimmering light hits them, and Vermeer’s talent is exemplified. I marvel at the young woman's steady hand and concentrated stare, for there are times I wish I had such dedication to my homework. Or really anything these days. Senioritis is a thing and it's pretty debilitating; however, looking at The Milkmaid gives me the motivation to go on.

Portrait of a Woman Scorned
The Fairer Sex Treated Not-So Fairly
Curated by Katherine Anderson

Girl with a Pearl Earring, Johannes Vermeer, 1667

There's something fishy that happens to a piece of artwork when it surpasses superstardom. Let's use Ferris Bueller's Day Off as an example. Despite its clever pranks and existential advice, there's always this strange feeling of boredom when someone suggests to watch it. Not because it isn't good, but because it's overused. It's a common phenomenon with things like Coldplay, McDonald's hamburgers, and 30 Rock. The "cult following" of once-good things turns off any desire to enjoy them. The same thing happens with art. For example, the fact that Van Gogh's Starry Night pops up on every art-related greeting card or notebook cover makes any painting connoisseur moderately nauseous. Not because the painting lacks innovation and skill, but because somehow its mass production ruins it. Similarly, Johannes Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring has been deemed banal by its Hollywood fame.

Though Girl with a Pearl Earring gained its fame from a fictional love story between the artist and its subject, that doesn't mean we, as viewers, should discount the painting's merit. With the boldness of color and complex emotion, Vermeer's masterpiece deserves a place in the Dutch Golden Age's hall of fame. Girl with the Pearl Earring exemplifies the cunning portraiture of later movements too, clearly influencing the realism of the early nineteenth century. All in all, the worthiness of this painting supersedes the hype of its fictional backstory and exemplifies the pinnacle of artistic inspiration.

A Room with a View
Examining the Film through an Art Historian's Lens
Curated by Melissa Martin

Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window, Johannes Vermeer, 1657-1658

"Afar off, the towers of Florence. And she wandered as though in a dream through the wavering sea of barley, touched with crimson stains of poppies. All unobserved, he came to her. Isn't it immortal? There came from his lips no wordy protestations such as formal lovers use. No eloquence was his, nor did he need it. He simply enfolded her in his manly arms..." - Eleanor Lavish Love at first sight is no myth. It happens rarely, but when it strikes, life changes drastically. That's how I feel about Johannes Vermeer. As my junior self sat wide-eyed in the bewildering Renaissance Art History class, I found solace in the delicate portraits from Vermeer. The soft lighting calmed me, the subject matter engaged me, and the perfectly organized composition intrigued me. I couldn't get enough of his classic Dutch genre paintings, and I still can't. An unhealthy obsession with Vermeer's works planted a seed in my mind to craft a collection around. My favorite works of his often feature windows that illuminate the setting and character, so why not use that as a jumping-off point? Thus, "A Room with a View" was born. The title that developed in my subconscious eventually prompted me to re-watch A Room with a View, a boring and lengthy movie I hadn't seen for years. Goodness, was I wrong. Though slow at times, I thoroughly enjoyed giving it a second chance. Now, I could relate the film with Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window on content alone (suppressed females aching to escape the restrictions of society, but that would be too obvious). For me, these two works share an abstract commonality: the ability to fall in love so effortlessly. Much like Lucy Honeychurch and George Emerson adore each other, I very much fancy Mr. Vermeer.