My Kid Could Paint That

Subterfuge in Art

The cheating in this work comes in Cotan;s ability to create overwhelming symbolic beauty and significance… with produce. Debate exists regarding this work’s specific desired meaning, but three arguments stand out.

1. An expression of religion

2. Celebration of nature/sexuality

3. A mere practice in painting

Now, my analysis of this work does not use either one of these possible descriptions exclusively. Rather, I’ll discuss how all three of these make sense, which that in and of itself is incredible. First, I definitely see it. Note the simplicity of these living and beautiful things shining with their curves against a stark black background. Heck, the beauty of the produce more impressive than the ornateness of the frame. The apple overhang implies the possibility of relgious undertones. Second, there is no denying the phallic-shaped fruits. None. Accompanied with the implied fertility from the living things, there is a definite sexual aspect that could be interpreted in this work. Thirdly, oh the detail. A still life itself was revolutionary and new for Cotan's time, and one this beautiful proves even more noteworthy. Each piece of produce is detailed and realistic, even self -contained. Brilliant, beautifully, and believable, Cotan's work draws emotional and spiritual connections with... fruit.

Subterfuge in Art

Van Der Goes’ loopholes are the least subtle, and least brilliant, but… the most hilarious. Nude art typically finds ways to cover the parts deemed unsuitable for common eyes. Sometimes the nude turns away, sometimes they have drapery coverage, and sometimes they just have conveniently long hair. But this is a beautiful coverage. A flower. An incredibly conveniently-placed flower. I could criticize the hilariously perfect bending plant forever, but Adam’s hand warrants even more mockery.

It’s literally not doing anything. Except existing to cover him. There is zero subtlety, his hand isn’t doing anything or serving any purpose, it’s just there. Clever, Hugo. Little do we know what's behind his delicately placed hand. An actual aspect of cleverness is Eve’s swollen belly. Before a bite of the apple has even been taken, she is already pregnant with mankind (ow) and the sins of humanity.

Subterfuge in Art
Curated by Tessia Phillips

Subterfuge in Art

Subterfuge in Art

Van Eyck,  The Wedding Portrait, 1434

Van Eyck always wins with the subtleties. Every mundane or simple object pictures represents something of sanctity. The mirror pictured behind the couple reflects the minister, or perhaps the artist, while oranges to the left of the groom symbolize fertility. Van Eyck does not need to paint the artist directly, because he finds his way around the conventions of the story with the mirror. He also does not need to explicitly announce the bride’s pregnancy, because though her oversized dress could be interpreted as simply the style of the day, the fertility fruit says what Van Eyck cannot.

Ability to symbolize the sanctity of marriage with clogs, a dog, and a broom, is a rare gift possessed by Van Eyck - and this piece specifically. The common dog name “Fido” derives from the Latin word meaning “to trust.” The small whisk brook symbolizes domestic care, while the cast aside clogs indicate that the marriage is taking place on holy ground. Van Eyck masters complexity in mundanity in order to achieve maximum impact with minimal, but precise detail.

Subterfuge in Art

Pieter Bruegel, World Upside Down, 1559

Pieter Bruegel spent the majority of his artistic career doing whatever he wanted anyway, but this particular piece highlights his ability to... make fun of proverbs, making them both artistic and hilarious. In a lovable and comic way, Bruegel, simply put, paints blasphemy. He uses this work to illustrate the absurdity of the literal.

My personal favorite example of Bruegel finding and capitalizing on a loophole is visible in the top left corner. Literally, the proverb says, “He pisses on the moon.” If finding an excuse to paint a man peeing out of a window isn’t impressive enough, Bruelel uses a moon sign outside a shop to serve as the actual moon’s replacement. "Putting a hood on the Devil" and "carrying a cauldron too hot" are also depicted proverbs. In his ability to mock the literal with the visual, Breugel finds the hilarity in preachy morality.

Sofonisba Anguissola, Self-Portrait, 1556

When people want what they want, and they want it badly enough, they will have it. Even the most tight knit systems have loopholes, and even the tallest gates have a way around. Intellect, creativity, and strategic thinking are often the keys to success in spotting the loophole, and capitalizing on it. While writers use objects and people to symbolize a larger idea or meaning, artists have the added luxury of creating larger- scale twists.

In the portrait above, Sofonisba Anguissola paints…herself. But women could not paint themselves. Portraits of women (especially by women) were taboo, and religious works took the front seat of artistic pursuits. Here, Anguissola finds the loophole. “Not allowed to paint a portrait of myself? It’s not, you see? It’s a religious scene (where the woman painted is obviously me), I just happened to expand the scale so you can see me creating this sacred work.” The creativity and skill in artists combine in works to dodge social bullets, technical struggles, and stick the eye of the needle through every loophole.

Beauty in Death

Francisco Goya, The Third of May 1808, 1814

Obviously, Goya’s painting differs from all of the other paintings I have chosen. While the others depict the killings of traditional Christian martyrs, I thought this painting would work for a modern interpretation of my theme—it provides a great example of a modern martyrdom. The scene in this painting occurred just after Napoleon’s invasion of Spain in 1807-1808. Napoleon had proven a rather popular dictator in Spain for some time, helping to set up something of a puppet ruler in the new King Ferdinand. However, the people quickly grew tired of Napoleon’s rule. On the second of May in 1808, they staged armed rebellions against the tyrant in Madrid. Napoleon’s general issued a decree that anyone caught with a weapon in the uprisings would be shot to death the next day. French soldiers executed many this way on May 3rd, 1808.

Goya’s depiction of these executions is one of the most famous paintings in the world. The young Spanish rebel stands with his hands held high in the air, declaring his innocence. The men to his left all await a similar fate. Goya skillfully uses light/dark contrast, brilliantly illuminating in white the boy about to be executed to highlight his innocence. His fallen comrades lie on the ground to his right. The French soldiers lean menacingly towards the victim. Goya hides their faces—they appear as inhuman killing machines. Most disturbing by far about this painting is the face of the unknown victim. Pure fear plays across his face as he stares down his certain doom. The more I look at this painting, the more emotionally powerful it becomes. It forces the viewer to realize that this is the end of the line for this young life. I think that this is why I like this painting so much. Goya does a supreme job of conveying a sense of loss and destruction as the French soldiers senselessly kill hundreds of civilians. While he may not have been holy, I think that this poor man is the true definition of a martyr. He died defenseless for a cause he truly believed in. And his death carries with it a certain sense of purpose. He may have died without accomplishing his goal, but the war raged on and his people eventually prevailed five years later. Goya memorialized this hero’s death in one of the most emotionally powerful paintings ever created.

Beauty in Death

Caravaggio, Crucifixion of Saint Peter, 1600

Caravaggio’s Crucifixion of Saint Peter depicts Peter’s death in an unusual way. While being crucified upside down would certainly feel both painful and humiliating, Saint Peter betrays little emotion as the assistants raise him up on his cross. Rather than seeming timid or fearful, Peter appears in control of the procedure. His muscular arms seem perfectly capable of ripping the cross into splinters. The laborers complete the inversion of power. Rather than lording over him, they seem to struggle to lift Saint Peter’s holy mass up onto the cross. All of them have their faces averted in reverence, and they seem to melt into the background. Only Saint Peter himself is illuminated. His skin looks bleached, but he exudes power. His muscles combined with a full beard illustrate his power. His face sags with fatigue, but he does not look defeated. I think the stark relief created by the lighting injects emotion into the piece. The deep, dark spaces add gravity to the painting. They seem like spaces beckoning Saint Peter to his grave. However, Saint Peter is protected, bathed in holy light. He stares into the source of the light.

This painting shows the serenity of the holy figure in the face of adversity contrasted with his obvious impending doom. Whether a martyrdom painting was created to protest a war or to advance a religious ideology, it almost invariably contains these two themes. Additionally, this painting exemplifies how a great painter like Caravaggio can create true beauty from even the most intense suffering.