If you don't own a train company then you go and paint on one instead. It all comes from that thing at school when you had to have name tags in the back of something.. that makes it belong to you. You can own half the city by scribbling your name over it.
- Banksy
5.07.2010
5.06.2010
Art in Quotations
Painting is easy when you don't know how, but very difficult when you do.
~ Edgar Degas
~ Edgar Degas
5.05.2010
Guest Post, Part II: John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee
Guest Post, Part II: Giovanni Francesco Rustici (and/or?) Leonardo da Vinci, John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511).
Here we go with Part II! Once again, I am going to include Kellin's awesome resume just in case there are some people just joining us :)
Kellin Barlow-Wilcox is a great friend of mine who I was lucky enough to meet while studying abroad in Florence last year. Her credentials are legion but here is a bit of an introduction. Kellin graduated Magna Cum Laude from New York University in 2004 with a joint degree in Art History, Religious Studies, Medieval and Renaissance Studies, and Italian. She also recently finished her Master's at Syracuse University in Florence with research on the history of gesture in art and she currently resides in Los Angeles and works as the Executive Assistant to the Director of the Hammer Museum.
Part II
If we take a closer look at our protagonists and compare them to some of Leonardo’s drawings and paintings, we find some uncanny similarities.
“Right: Study for the Last Supper, c. 1495 Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna”
“Various sketches from Leonardo da Vinci’s notebooks”
The facial structures of both the Pharisee and, in particular, the Levite, bear a striking resemblance to works by the older artist. The Pharisee’s scowl, pointed nose and beard could be a three-dimensional adaptation of this drawing of an apostle from one of Leonardo’s preparatory studies. Even more compelling is the face of a wizened, old warrior with the “nutcracker” nose who appears repeatedly in Leonardo’s notebooks and whose features seems to be the blue print for the Levite’s cavernous face.
“Left: St John the Baptist, 1513-16 Musée du Louvre, Paris; right: Baccio Bandinelli, Annunciate Angel (after Leonardo da Vinci)”
The powerful gesture of St John is also famously associated with Leonardo as seen in his painting of Saint John in the Louvre and his Annunciate Angel (now lost but know to us through copies…no it is seriously lost, I don’t know where the hell this thing is).
Then we reach the unavoidable fact that this work was Rustici’s most successful by far. He would never surpass its beauty, originality or technical skill. It is as if the sculptures themselves confirm the story. What may have seemed a clever anecdote, added by Vasari for dramatic affect, has some remarkably convincing visual evidence. It is even easy for us to imagine the scene: the younger artist struggling under the pressure of the most important commission of his life, and the older, more seasoned mentor who shows up in just the nick of time (cue dramatic music).
However, a more careful look at the documents (i.e. facts) proves that Vasari is, ever so carefully, bending the truth. Vasari’s claim that Leonardo provided unwavering support to the young artist is simply not possible when we learn that Leonardo may have been physically present in Florence for as little as eight out of the thirty-three months Rustici spent completing the terracotta moulds. It is also not definite that he spent more than one of these months in the same house as Rustici. In fact, Rustici asked for an extension on his original two-year deadline and the models were not ready for casting until September 18th 1509, almost seventeen months after Leonardo’s final departure from Florence.
Ok. So what is it? Is it a Leonardo? Is it a Rustici? It’s difficult to say. The question is further complicated by the fact that if we could definitively say that it is a Leonardo, it would be the only remaining work in sculpture by the genius that gave us some of the most famous paintings in the world. Damn you art history and your inexplicable mysteries!
The topic of Leonardo the sculptor, an admittedly frustrating one, is currently the subject of an exhibition at the Getty (originally at Atlanta High Museum, http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/leonardo/). The show features a collection of important drawings that shed some much-needed light on this under-researched facet of Leonardo’s career. Many of these pages are based on Leonardo’s known sculptural projects (either never completed or never even begun) as well as various sketches that betray Leonardo’s often three-dimensional thinking. The show’s big finale? The three looming figures of St John, the Pharisee and the Levite.
While we will probably never be able to definitively say one way or the other, in this case I am persuaded to agree with Sir Kenneth Clark; even if it isn’t a Leonardo, it is probably the closest we will ever get. However, until the day that a document surfaces that tells us the definitive truth, put Giovanni Francesco Rustici’s name in the old memory bank. I think he’s earned it.
Here we go with Part II! Once again, I am going to include Kellin's awesome resume just in case there are some people just joining us :)
Kellin Barlow-Wilcox is a great friend of mine who I was lucky enough to meet while studying abroad in Florence last year. Her credentials are legion but here is a bit of an introduction. Kellin graduated Magna Cum Laude from New York University in 2004 with a joint degree in Art History, Religious Studies, Medieval and Renaissance Studies, and Italian. She also recently finished her Master's at Syracuse University in Florence with research on the history of gesture in art and she currently resides in Los Angeles and works as the Executive Assistant to the Director of the Hammer Museum.
Part II
If we take a closer look at our protagonists and compare them to some of Leonardo’s drawings and paintings, we find some uncanny similarities.
“Right: Study for the Last Supper, c. 1495 Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna”
“Various sketches from Leonardo da Vinci’s notebooks”
The facial structures of both the Pharisee and, in particular, the Levite, bear a striking resemblance to works by the older artist. The Pharisee’s scowl, pointed nose and beard could be a three-dimensional adaptation of this drawing of an apostle from one of Leonardo’s preparatory studies. Even more compelling is the face of a wizened, old warrior with the “nutcracker” nose who appears repeatedly in Leonardo’s notebooks and whose features seems to be the blue print for the Levite’s cavernous face.
“Left: St John the Baptist, 1513-16 Musée du Louvre, Paris; right: Baccio Bandinelli, Annunciate Angel (after Leonardo da Vinci)”
The powerful gesture of St John is also famously associated with Leonardo as seen in his painting of Saint John in the Louvre and his Annunciate Angel (now lost but know to us through copies…no it is seriously lost, I don’t know where the hell this thing is).
Then we reach the unavoidable fact that this work was Rustici’s most successful by far. He would never surpass its beauty, originality or technical skill. It is as if the sculptures themselves confirm the story. What may have seemed a clever anecdote, added by Vasari for dramatic affect, has some remarkably convincing visual evidence. It is even easy for us to imagine the scene: the younger artist struggling under the pressure of the most important commission of his life, and the older, more seasoned mentor who shows up in just the nick of time (cue dramatic music).
However, a more careful look at the documents (i.e. facts) proves that Vasari is, ever so carefully, bending the truth. Vasari’s claim that Leonardo provided unwavering support to the young artist is simply not possible when we learn that Leonardo may have been physically present in Florence for as little as eight out of the thirty-three months Rustici spent completing the terracotta moulds. It is also not definite that he spent more than one of these months in the same house as Rustici. In fact, Rustici asked for an extension on his original two-year deadline and the models were not ready for casting until September 18th 1509, almost seventeen months after Leonardo’s final departure from Florence.
Ok. So what is it? Is it a Leonardo? Is it a Rustici? It’s difficult to say. The question is further complicated by the fact that if we could definitively say that it is a Leonardo, it would be the only remaining work in sculpture by the genius that gave us some of the most famous paintings in the world. Damn you art history and your inexplicable mysteries!
The topic of Leonardo the sculptor, an admittedly frustrating one, is currently the subject of an exhibition at the Getty (originally at Atlanta High Museum, http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/leonardo/). The show features a collection of important drawings that shed some much-needed light on this under-researched facet of Leonardo’s career. Many of these pages are based on Leonardo’s known sculptural projects (either never completed or never even begun) as well as various sketches that betray Leonardo’s often three-dimensional thinking. The show’s big finale? The three looming figures of St John, the Pharisee and the Levite.
While we will probably never be able to definitively say one way or the other, in this case I am persuaded to agree with Sir Kenneth Clark; even if it isn’t a Leonardo, it is probably the closest we will ever get. However, until the day that a document surfaces that tells us the definitive truth, put Giovanni Francesco Rustici’s name in the old memory bank. I think he’s earned it.
5.04.2010
Guest Post: John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Phariseee
Guest Post, Part I: Giovanni Francesco Rustici (and/or?) Leonardo da Vinci, John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511).
Hey Everyone! Lydia here, I am so happy (and proud) to introduce my great friend Kellin Barlow-Wilcox who is posting today and tomorrow and who I was lucky enough to meet while studying abroad in Florence last year. Kellin was diligently working away to obtain her Master's degree while I gallivanted around Europe so you can guess how annoying I probably was :) Her credentials are longer than I care to know (makes me realize what I need to get done) but here is a bit of an introduction. Kellin graduated Magna Cum Laude from New York University in 2004 with a joint degree in Art History, Religious Studies, Medieval and Renaissance Studies, and Italian. She also recently finished her Master's at Syracuse University in Florence with research on the history of gesture in art and she currently resides in Los Angeles and works as the Executive Assistant to the Director of the Hammer Museum.
Part I
Giovanni Francesco Rustici (and/or?) Leonardo da Vinci, John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511).
“John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee, 1506-11”
“The sculptures in situ on the Baptistery of Florence.”
Leonardo da Vinci is one of the first names likely to pop into someone’s head during any discussion of Renaissance art (or Dan Brown novels, for that matter). What about the name Giovanni Francesco Rustici? Chances are you’ve never heard of Leonardo’s younger contemporary, and it’s no surprise. Thanks to a complicated history, some juicy gossip, and a long tradition, Rustici’s most famous work (John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511), pictured above) is mentioned more frequently in relation to Leonardo.
Once again we must turn to our good friend Giorgio Vasari (the man who gave us as much useful information as misleading). Thanks to Vasari’s knack for flattery and his, well, “relaxed” viewpoint on precise attributions, this sculpture appears to be by two different people. Basically, if you’re reading Rustici’s biography in Vasari’s Lives, the work is described as being predominantly by Rustici, however if you’re reading Leonardo’s biography, then it’s the work of Leonardo. Gee. Thanks Vasari.
Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Between the years 1501 and 1503, Leonardo was in and out of Florence. He had only just returned from Milan in 1500 where he spent the previous seventeen years. In the fall of 1503 Leonardo was commissioned by the Florentine government to begin one of his most important projects to date, The Battle of Anghiari in the Palazzo Vecchio (now lost…or is it? Look for my upcoming post). In May of 1506, at the request of the French King, Leonardo returned to Milan, leaving the battle scene unfinished.
In December of that same year, Rustici, twenty-three years Leonardo’s junior, received what would be the most important commission of his career: a three figure group in bronze to be placed over the north doors of the Baptistery of Florence. This building was not only one of Florence’s oldest, but also one of its most revered; it was the symbol of the city’s Patron Saint, John the Baptist. Fittingly, the scene to be depicted referenced biblical accounts of the Baptist’s ministry where he lived in the wilderness preaching to his followers. In the books of Matthew and John, Pharisees (members of a strict Jewish sect) and Jewish priests (usually referred to as Levites) are mentioned as also being among his audience.
In 1507, over a year after Rustici had received the commission, Leonardo returned to Florence. On March 22nd of that same year, Leonardo noted in one of his journals that he was living in the house of a man named Martelli. This date corresponds to the exact time Rustici was also living in Martelli’s house and, more importantly, executing the baptistery sculptures. Though Rustici and Leonardo could have met prior to Leonardo’s 1508 return, it was at this time, according to Vasari, that their friendship grew. Adding a bit of drama to our tale, Vasari claims that while Rustici worked on the figures he would have no one near him except Leonardo. Vasari’s story inspired a tradition so well known among Florentines that a plaque now marks the house where these two artists once lived and, perhaps worked, together.
All joking aside, it is hard to ignore the astonishing beauty of the finished product. Each figure stands over life size (St John, the tallest of the three, stands at 107.5 inches or almost 9 feet). The texture of the Baptist’s hair, which is made of thick, coiling locks, and the swirling pattern of his hair shirt, betray the original terracotta medium. The faces are so profoundly unique that they appear to have been observed directly from nature. The Levite, with his sunken eyes and prominent nose, bows his head, deep in thought. Opposite, the Pharisee, his flatter features obscured in facial hair, twists his massive fingers through his beard while he scrutinizes the Saint with a furrowed brow.
St John looks down toward the viewer in the piazza with a piercing gaze and an open mouth. He appears untroubled by his companion’s questioning looks, turning instead to makes eye contact with the audience below. His gesture, a single finger pointing dramatically upwards, conveys to the viewer the words of his most famous pronouncement: “After me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry.” (Mt 3:11)
To be continued…
Hey Everyone! Lydia here, I am so happy (and proud) to introduce my great friend Kellin Barlow-Wilcox who is posting today and tomorrow and who I was lucky enough to meet while studying abroad in Florence last year. Kellin was diligently working away to obtain her Master's degree while I gallivanted around Europe so you can guess how annoying I probably was :) Her credentials are longer than I care to know (makes me realize what I need to get done) but here is a bit of an introduction. Kellin graduated Magna Cum Laude from New York University in 2004 with a joint degree in Art History, Religious Studies, Medieval and Renaissance Studies, and Italian. She also recently finished her Master's at Syracuse University in Florence with research on the history of gesture in art and she currently resides in Los Angeles and works as the Executive Assistant to the Director of the Hammer Museum.
Part I
Giovanni Francesco Rustici (and/or?) Leonardo da Vinci, John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511).
“John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee, 1506-11”
“The sculptures in situ on the Baptistery of Florence.”
Leonardo da Vinci is one of the first names likely to pop into someone’s head during any discussion of Renaissance art (or Dan Brown novels, for that matter). What about the name Giovanni Francesco Rustici? Chances are you’ve never heard of Leonardo’s younger contemporary, and it’s no surprise. Thanks to a complicated history, some juicy gossip, and a long tradition, Rustici’s most famous work (John the Baptist Preaching to a Levite and a Pharisee (1506-1511), pictured above) is mentioned more frequently in relation to Leonardo.
Once again we must turn to our good friend Giorgio Vasari (the man who gave us as much useful information as misleading). Thanks to Vasari’s knack for flattery and his, well, “relaxed” viewpoint on precise attributions, this sculpture appears to be by two different people. Basically, if you’re reading Rustici’s biography in Vasari’s Lives, the work is described as being predominantly by Rustici, however if you’re reading Leonardo’s biography, then it’s the work of Leonardo. Gee. Thanks Vasari.
Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Between the years 1501 and 1503, Leonardo was in and out of Florence. He had only just returned from Milan in 1500 where he spent the previous seventeen years. In the fall of 1503 Leonardo was commissioned by the Florentine government to begin one of his most important projects to date, The Battle of Anghiari in the Palazzo Vecchio (now lost…or is it? Look for my upcoming post). In May of 1506, at the request of the French King, Leonardo returned to Milan, leaving the battle scene unfinished.
In December of that same year, Rustici, twenty-three years Leonardo’s junior, received what would be the most important commission of his career: a three figure group in bronze to be placed over the north doors of the Baptistery of Florence. This building was not only one of Florence’s oldest, but also one of its most revered; it was the symbol of the city’s Patron Saint, John the Baptist. Fittingly, the scene to be depicted referenced biblical accounts of the Baptist’s ministry where he lived in the wilderness preaching to his followers. In the books of Matthew and John, Pharisees (members of a strict Jewish sect) and Jewish priests (usually referred to as Levites) are mentioned as also being among his audience.
In 1507, over a year after Rustici had received the commission, Leonardo returned to Florence. On March 22nd of that same year, Leonardo noted in one of his journals that he was living in the house of a man named Martelli. This date corresponds to the exact time Rustici was also living in Martelli’s house and, more importantly, executing the baptistery sculptures. Though Rustici and Leonardo could have met prior to Leonardo’s 1508 return, it was at this time, according to Vasari, that their friendship grew. Adding a bit of drama to our tale, Vasari claims that while Rustici worked on the figures he would have no one near him except Leonardo. Vasari’s story inspired a tradition so well known among Florentines that a plaque now marks the house where these two artists once lived and, perhaps worked, together.
All joking aside, it is hard to ignore the astonishing beauty of the finished product. Each figure stands over life size (St John, the tallest of the three, stands at 107.5 inches or almost 9 feet). The texture of the Baptist’s hair, which is made of thick, coiling locks, and the swirling pattern of his hair shirt, betray the original terracotta medium. The faces are so profoundly unique that they appear to have been observed directly from nature. The Levite, with his sunken eyes and prominent nose, bows his head, deep in thought. Opposite, the Pharisee, his flatter features obscured in facial hair, twists his massive fingers through his beard while he scrutinizes the Saint with a furrowed brow.
St John looks down toward the viewer in the piazza with a piercing gaze and an open mouth. He appears untroubled by his companion’s questioning looks, turning instead to makes eye contact with the audience below. His gesture, a single finger pointing dramatically upwards, conveys to the viewer the words of his most famous pronouncement: “After me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry.” (Mt 3:11)
To be continued…
5.03.2010
Martin Creed, Work No. 227, the lights going on and off (2000)
Martin Creed, Work No. 227, The Lights Going On And Off, 2000. Electrical timer (frequency five seconds on/five seconds off), Dimensions variable.
Martin Creed (b. 1968) is a British conceptual artist who won the Turner Prize in 2001 with his installation (shown above) Work No. 227, The Lights Going On And Off. Creed is a minimalist who works with the ideas between art and reality, and what constitutes art. He attended the prestigious Slade School of Art in London in the late '80's and was originally a painter. He began to work in conceptual and installation art in the early '90's and has had considerable success with many of his works. Known for his use of neon signs, Creed has exhibited on the facade of the Tate Britain with an installation called, His Work No. 143, 2000, that had written out in blue neon the equation "the whole world + the work = the whole world".
From his biography on the Tate Britain's website we get an interesting explanation of his methods: Two other neon works are typical of Creed's gentle subversions of everyday reality or ideas. One emblazons the cliché 'everything is going to be alright' across a building or gallery wall which presented thus quickly evokes the ways in which the opposite is the case. Similarly 'don't worry' which, while reminding us to worry, also flashes on and off in a manner that is worrying in itself.
The work discussed here today though is his controversial Turner Prize submission, Work No. 227, The Lights Going On And Off. Installed in a room of the Tate for the Turner Prize in 2001, this work of Creed's competed against Richard Billingham, Isaac Julien, and Mike Nelson. The decision to award the prize to Creed was unanimous. The work itself is very simple, and very beautiful in its simplicity. A room, enclosed on all sides, is lit up and blacked out by a light source. The light bulbs are turned on for 5 seconds and then turned off for 5 seconds.
Is this art? Many artists at the time of Creed's submission of the work to the Turner competition did not think so. One in particular, Jacqueline Crofton, threw eggs at the wall of the room after the prize was named the winner. Creed's win was one of the most televised ceremonies in the Turner's history and Creed received his check from Madonna.
Creed has since donated the work to Great Britain and it is displayed at the Tate Britain. It is also displayed at the MoMA in New York.
I have to ask what you guys think of this? Is this art? It is an idea, a philosophy but is it art?
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