A Bakewell Cake at the British Museum ✎

 

I was treating myself at the British Museum.  

I like this photo. 😊

Portrait of Pope Julius II by Raphael (1511–1512) ✎

Captivating.

I’ve seen this portrait so many times, but I’ll never forget my initial shock when first encountering it.

It’s very interesting that Vasari (thirty years after the death of Raphael) wrote of this portrait “it was so lifelike and true it frightened everyone who saw it, as if it were the living man himself.”

For me, the painting has a disarming intimacy and sense of pathos which is executed with Raphael’s technical brilliance.

The artistic details are bewildering: the soft white ermine fur on the red-velvet mozzetta, camauro to match, subtle flesh tones and rings, crisp & starched white surplice etc. The dark green background hides an interesting backstory. 

Pope Julius II was a scary Pope. He had a horrible temper and lead armies into battle himself! And yet, he is depicted as a tired elderly man in a moment of some melancholic reflection. His downward gaze, dejected bearing, distant and worried eyes, the grip on his chair. It is down to his military defeat at the hands of the French.

The previous Pope was Pope Pius III and below (it seems) is his portrait:

Raphael’s portrait is thus revolutionary - very intimate with a three-quarter view turned away from us (in contemplation).

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More on YouTube from the National Gallery talk by Matthias Wivel:

A Moai Statue (Hoa Hakananai'a) by Rapa Nui Carver (1000–1200 AD) ✎

I saw this terrific Moai statue at the British Museum.

This one is known as Hoa Hakananai'a. What is striking is its massive scale. Stoic and powerful.

These are massive human figures carved from volcanic tuff by the Rapa Nui people on Easter Island (Island of Chile) between roughly 1250 and 1500 AD.

This Moai was carved from a dense hard basalt! Incredible. 

Madonna and Child with St. Zenobius, St. John the Baptist, St. Anthony and St. Francis of Assisi by Francesco Pesellino (1450s) ✎

I saw this lovely painting at the Louvre.

Pesellino was a bridge between the delicate & ornate International Gothic style of the Middle Ages and the more structured Early Renaissance.

Pesellino was, in his day, doing some cutting-edge art for the 1450s.

The halos are still the traditional “gold disks”. By the time we reach the High Renaissance, they’re turned into thin golden hoops or disappeared entirely. The linear perspective is clear, and faces bear a subdued expression (the sacrifice of Christ) as opposed to the earlier distinctly-stylised Gothic faces. There is a somber tone.

St. John the Baptist announces the coming of the Messiah by pointing at the Child and directing the viewer’s attention towards the spiritual meaning of the work. I noticed some faint anatomical signs in the arm (blood vessels) which obviously marks it out as a humanist-renaissance painting.

The Marilyn Diptych by Andy Warhol (1962) ✎

This is a poignant (and religious) painting by Andy Warhol at the Tate Modern.

Mass production is an old story. For centuries, religious icons were mass-produced (woodcuts etc.) as a “window” to Heaven or towards some spiritual or meaningful connection. Warhol tried to flip this. By treating Marilyn as a religious diptych, he is suggesting, in our modern times, that we have traded spiritual transcendence for the “religion” of the celebrity icon.

I don’t agree with the religious thesis of Warhol, but I think he’s right about the grotesque commercialisation of art in our times.

Warhol wanted his art to be as recognizable as a Coca-Cola bottle. So, if you see a Marilyn, you don’t have to wonder who painted it. The “brand recognition” would be instantaneous. One might argue that The Dutch Golden was the moment in history when art moved away from God and religion into a commodity for the middle class, but the Dutch created “meaningful” art with incredible detail and moral/meaningful overtones and symbols. Warhol took that same “commodity” art concept and stripped away the detail and the meaning.

Why so some many paintings (which were originally painted for ordinary people) fetch enormous sums at auction houses? Last year, an ugly portrait by Gustav Klimt sold for $236 million. Why? Because of the “hype” about him as an artist (i.e. the artist’s persona as a product). Warhol knew that once the artist becomes a “brand”, the art becomes secondary.

Warhol left smears and fading. 

He wanted us to see the machinery.