Elevenses

May 20

Hard Candy

By Lynne Hanley Conceptual Art, Elevenses, Installations, Talking art

Today we are talking candy as the Americans would say. Hard candy, actually. I’m not American so I’m going for sweeties. Art made of sweets. Sweets in art.

I might be breaking new Elevenses ground here by going for an installation crossed with conceptual art. The truth is that when I think of sweets there are two works that immediately come to mind and both are installations. I’m posting about one today and the other will find its way into a post at the start of June.

I remember hearing about this particular work 30 years ago and when spoken about it always came accompanied by a huge eye-roll. ‘What makes it art?’ people cried. ‘I could have done that – look I’ll do a little version of it now’ they said as they emptied a packet of glacier mints into the corner of the room (where, frankly they could stay in my opinion; not my favourite by a long shot).

The installation that I’m talking about is this one, or one like it, by Felix Gonzales Torres, a gay Cuban born American artist who did a series of works (19 in total) in 1990 /1991 using wrapped sweets. He would put a pile of them in a corner of a gallery AND you were allowed to eat them. As many as you wanted. And then you could go back the next day or the next week and eat some more. That is the part of the artwork that, unsurprisingly, I remember the most!!

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Candy Spill or Portrait of Ross in L.A., 1991, Art Institute Chicago

This work relies on people like me wanting to eat the sweets. Gonzalez Torres was quoted as saying that he needed the public to complete the work. The installation depicted here, consisting of a pile of sweets placed in the corner of a gallery, is called ‘Candy Spill’ or more poignantly ‘Portrait of Ross’. They represent his lover who died of an AIDS related illness. The weight of the installation should ideally be 175 pounds or 12.5 stone, Ross’s ideal weight. The shrinking pile of course represented Ross’s own weight loss as he lost his life to the disease. The audience is therefore acting as the AIDS virus as they deplete the pile.

There’s more.

One of the conditions of a gallery displaying the work is that they are obliged to replenish the pile every day. If we stay with the metaphor of the sweets representing Ross’s body, the fact that it was forever replenished grants him everlasting life which in turn raises the notion of transubstantiation. This was absolutely something that was in Gonzales Torres’s mind when he created the work. He said:

‘You put it in your mouth and you suck on someone else’s body, and in this way my work becomes part of so many other people’s bodies. For just a few seconds, I have put something sweet in someone’s mouth, and that is very sexy.’

Add all that to the layer of meaning that comes in when you consider how often we give sweets as gifts, all those boxes of chocolates as declarations of love, and you get a very poignant and rather elegant work.

Felix Gonzales Torres also succumbed to AIDS at just 38 years old in 1996.

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

May 13

Love0

Flora the ambitious blonde

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, Renaissance Art, Talking art

Palma Vecchio, A Blonde Woman, 1520, National Gallery

Flora the ambitious blonde? Well, yes. Palma Vecchio’s A Blonde Woman is most certainly blonde. But where does ‘Flora’ come in? And why might we say that this lady has ambition?

Read on!

Firstly, that is a knowing gaze. Also, because her eyes are sliding off to the left, our eye is drawn to the gorgeous pink nipple first and then to the posy of flowers. Before we get onto the flowers, I need to linger on the nipple and the breast (!) because, whoops, does she even know that her pretty blue ribbon has come undone? Or that the loop of the ribbon against this again rather soft and sensual abundance of white chemise perfectly frames her perfectly pert right bosom?

And so to the flowers. Firstly, isn’t it gorgeous the way that the colours echo the gold of her hair and jewellery, her ribbon and the green of her dress and of course the rosy pink of her nipple. They also may have symbolic meaning. The forget-me-nots ask us to do what they say on the tin, buttercups are all about dazzling charms and the primrose (pink flower) associated with first love ‘prima rosa’ because they flower in early spring.

It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that perhaps this unapologetically erotic portrait is of a courtesan. But if you were in any doubt, let’s delve deeper into the clues, starting with the gaze. No up standing member of the 16th century community is going to sit around for hours on end with her chemise undone and slipping off her shoulder to expose a boob. And they are definitely not going to look invitingly at you as they do it!

Palma Vecchio, A Blonde Woman detail of posy of flowers

The posy of flowers, however, is fairly innocent, right? Wrong! The flowers allude to the goddess Flora which in itself is lovely. Classical antiquity was all the rage in the 1520s and to depict a goddess showed a certain erudition. But Flora, ah! Flora was the goddess of the flowering or blossoming of flowers and plants, especially agricultural crops. Violently abducted by Zephyr the west wind , she was subsequently given a beautiful garden. So she is the goddess that makes things grow, by which I mean ‘things’ other than flowers and crops. We can thank ancient Rome for that bit of double entendre. Courtesans in the Renaissance era were commonly called Flora as a result of this. And just another connection to antiquity; all prostitutes in ancient Rome had to have blonde hair. Do we think she’s a natural blonde? Unlikely!

There was, in the 16^th century, a fashion for Venetian women to bleach their hair. This 16^th century version of sun-in may well have had similar results but was quite a lot more disgusting to apply and seems to have involved pigeon shit rinsed off with horse urine. It’s surprising perhaps, given the smell, that bleaching the hair was a sure sign of vanity – I look good but I smell like shit (literally) – although many women apparently succumbed.

In a world in which portraits were essentially displays of wealth and the importance of lineage, why a courtesan and who commissioned this? Well, courtesans played quite an important role in 16th c Venice. There was absolutely a distinction between the honest or intellectual courtesan who often had what we would call ‘sugar daddies’ and the ladies that hung around the Rialto Bridge. The intellectual courtesans were relatively frequently not low born but born into patrician or merchant families and were, to a degree, educated. The problems started when they were at marriageable age because dowries were exorbitant. So if a couple had several daughters, they were in real danger of going bankrupt trying to marry them off. The options were that they remained spinsters and stayed at ‘home’ and then could be in the really weird position of having their baby brother’s wife as the mistress of the house; they could go into a nunnery – that also required a dowry albeit less; or they could become a courtesan which meant that they earnt a lot of money, often becoming the sole support of their family. In a society in which wealthy men often weren’t expected to marry until they were in their 30s, a cultured woman who provided entertainment and extras was almost a necessity.

‘Honest’ courtesans, as they were known straddled the gap between the noble and the lower classes but had the opportunity to mix in interesting circles and, to an extent, had power over their destiny. Those canny enough could wield considerable influence.

In sixteenth-century Venice, therefore, it wasn’t unusual for images of beautiful young women to be commissioned by collectors and the wealthy clients of courtesans. There is also evidence that successful courtesans commissioned such paintings of and for themselves, both as solid financial investments and as lasting records of their charms to be prominently displayed in their own apartments.

An ambitious blonde? Oh yes!

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Apr 29

Love0

Salomé: the dance that will make you lose your head!

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, Salome, Talking art

Oh yes! Salomé’s dance really did make someone lose their head. And definitely not in a good way.

First broadcast on International Dance Day, this looks like the ultimate Burlesque routine, I reckon. I mean, wow! Great back bend, elegant arms and head, the shoes completely match the outfit and she’s either brought along a leopard or is completely comfortable dancing with one in the room…

Armand Point, Dance of Salomé, 1898, private collection?

The couple she’s dancing for are pretty into it too. Clearly wealthy, he’s on a throne and they are both wearing a crown. Who are they? What’s with the peacock?

Well, if I say ‘dance of the seven veils’ does that give you a clue?

This is Herod – or actually Herod II, son of Herod who was King of Judea, and infamous for the massacre of the innocents. By his side is wife, Herodia. So of course the dancer is Salomé, the daughter of Herodia and Herod. But not this Herod, oh no. Nor Herod’s dad, but a different Herod altogether, Herod Philip, from whom Herodia was divorced. So many Herods! And the problem was that they were all related. Because both Herods were the sons of Herod… got it?

Let’s go back a few weeks, months, even years, before this dance took place.

Herodias and Herod Philip marry and have a daughter, Salomé. Then they fall out and get divorced. Herodias eyes up his half-brother Herod Antipas and, as she has a way of getting what she wants (as we’ll see), they end up marrying, much to the vehement condemnation of one John the Baptist which really upset Herodias. Herodias suggested quite strongly to her new husband that they could easily get rid of John the Baptist but as the saint was pretty popular, Herod refused and said he wasn’t interested.

What DID interest him, however, was the beautiful Salomé. So Herodias took her chance on his birthday and said if Salomé dances for you what will you give her? I imagine his eyes misting over here as he wrings his hands in anticipation and declares (greedily) that frankly give her anything she wants! Hmmm.

So here is Salomé, in a late 19^th century work by the French symbolist artist Armand Point, looking fabulous and working the room alongside a peacock and leopard.

Aubrey Beardsley, The Peacock Skirt, Illustrations for Oscar Wilde’s Salomé, 1894, Print in V & A, London

Peacocks have been a symbol of wealth, beauty and rebirth (in a Christian context) since ancient times but they were hugely fashionable in the 1890s – they were used as a motif by the illustrator Aubrey Beardsley throughout his 1894 illustrations for Oscar Wilde’s play, Salomé. I suppose their extravagant, beautiful exoticism fit the bill perfectly. And, by the way, Oscar Wilde is the man that coined the phrase ‘the dance of the seven veils’ in his one act play.

The leopard is a hunting animal, sleek and elegant; perhaps a sign of things to come?

The trade-off is of course that Salomé, prompted by her vengeful mother, asks for John the Baptist’s head on a platter. Against his better judgment, Herod reluctantly acceded to her request. Not that you’d get much of the horror of what’s to come from Point’s offering.

Fra Lippi, Herod’s Feast, between 1452 and 1465, Prato Cathedral

The fabulous early Renaissance artist Fra Lippi, on the other hand, tells us exactly what’s going on in his mid 15^th century fresco. No peacocks here, just good old fashioned story telling.

Centre left we can see Salomé dancing, not looking quite as happy and seductive as she does in the 19^th century version, but youthful and lovely nonetheless.

She is seen again to the left of the fresco receiving Saint John the Baptist’s head on the platter, and a third time to the right of the picture presenting it to Herodias who appears to be saying, ‘no, no, it’s for him’ whilst pointing at Herod. I’m not sure whether the couple to the far right are about to have a cheeky snog whilst everyone’s distracted, or whether they are reacting to the horror of having a head brought to the table!

Some artists just didn’t bother with the dancing and went straight for the head on a platter scenario.

I love this fashionable lady of the Wittenberg court as depicted by Lucas Cranach the Elder with her reddish necklaces that echo the horrible red blood of St John’s decapitated head. Cranach painted this theme a lot. Most of the works are quite small in size and would have been for private patrons. They share the common theme of depicting a haughty woman with a high forehead, the beauty ideal at the time, perfectly dressed in extremely fashionable clothes and calmly displaying a severed head. The thrill of the horror combined with the sensuality of Salomé proved a winning combination. Plus ça change!!!

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Salomé with the Head of John the Baptist, 1530s, Fine Art Museum, Budapest

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Apr 22

Love0

Luncheon of the Boating Party

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party, Talking art

This week is all about dining al fresco!

And here is one of the most famous and delicious luncheon scenes ever to be painted. Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1881, The Phillips Collection, Washington D.C.

It dates to 1881 and I suppose would be classified as an Impressionist work – it prioritises colour, it’s of a modern, everyday scene, it was mostly painted outdoors – he spent 16 months painting individual portraits in situ but then finished the whole thing off in the studio which wasn’t so Impressionist. It has to be said, however, that the Impressionists actually didn’t have a manifesto that they worked to.

The scene depicts a group of young people enjoying the tail end of what looks to have been a rather fabulous lunch. The location is a restaurant called Maison Fournaise which was closed in 1906 but with a rising interest in the Impressionist artists throughout the 20^th century, there was a campaign to restore it. So you can go and dine there once again.

In the 1880s it was a popular hangout for rowers who would congregate there because you could access it via the river and artists, and actresses and bourgeois types; all of whom are represented here, in glorious 3D. Renoir wanted them all to be substantial, properly modelled and convincing, hence he spent time on them and he painted them in a different way to the background which is far more ‘impressionistic’, they are also almost life size.

Look at these figures; they’re so much sharper than the background because they’re painted with finer brushstrokes.

The objects on the table are less defined too – look at the way that the glasses are brilliantly depicted using light and shadow.

Luncheon of the Boating Party really was, and still is, considered Renoir’s masterpiece. It’s three genres rolled into one (still life, landscape and portraiture), and is full of interaction which gives it real dynamism. The interaction in terms of the composition was certainly staged as the composition works so well but it was also genuine as the people depicted where Renoir’s friends.

The guy leaning against the balcony is Alphonse Fournaise, Jr. and the lady is Alphonsine Fournaise; brother and sister and the children of parents with little imagination. They are also, of course, part of the family who own the restaurant.

The lady cooing at her terrier is Aline Charigot, Renoir’s future wife. You might notice that the dog is looking slightly surprised, and that’s because he’s not looking at the same person that he was originally! Aline replaces the original model who had her face scraped away when Renoir fell in love with the young seamstress and decided that she needed to be in the painting!

Opposite Aline is the artist Gustave Caillebotte and amidst other recognisable faces of the day is one that is in the centre but, unlike all of the other people depicted, not interacting at all. She’s completely in her own world. This is the actress Ellen Andrée who also modelled for Degas.

The painting became part of the collection of Durand-Ruel who was an art collector and the main patron of the impressionists but when he died in 1922 the work was bought by an American collector called Duncan Phillips who had founded Washington D.C.’s The Phillips Collection, America’s first museum of modern art. It’s still there. It went to a great home, Duncan Phillips LOVED the work. Legend has it that one bitchy fellow collector once commented to Phillips that ‘that’s ‘s the only Renoir you have, isn’t it?’ and Phillips replied, ‘It’s the only one I need.’

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Apr 16

Love0

Hair Matters!

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, Good hair / bad hair, Talking art

mock up of Lynne Hanley as Marie Antoinette

Hair matters. As I write this, half the nation have hair like Rembrandt. Well, if not actually the same, they are sporting a frizzy, unkempt look born of not being able to get to a hairdresser for six months or so. The other half are luxuriating in newly coiffed fabulousness.

I’m going to the hairdresser as soon as I’ve posted this. I’ll post an update.

Bad hair day

Rembrandt van Rijn, Self-portrait, c.1628, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Good hair day

close up of Empress Elizabeth and her glorious hair

Franz Xaver Winterhalter, Empress Elisabeth of Austria, 1864, Collection of the Prince of Thurn and Taxis (detail)

Back to Rembrandt. This is one of his very early self-portraits, possibly the earliest, created in 1628 when he was 22, before he moved to Amsterdam from Leiden.

What a selfie debut! It takes quite an artist to decide to basically hide their face in a portrait. You don’t see the eyes for a second or two when usually they are the focal point. And he’s used really loose brushwork by his ear, and probably the end of the brush to make squiggles in the wet paint to create highlights where the sun has caught his hair. So innovative. So modern!

But it’s still bad hair.

Perhaps during lockdown, you might have felt like turning to wigs, hairpieces and decorations? Cue the fashionable ladies of the late 1700’s. Here’s the most famous up-do wearer not just of her time, but, perhaps, of history. Marie Antoinette is rocking her ‘up do’ in this portrait of her by Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun. It’s the first of 30 portraits the artist painted of the French queen. Vigée Le Brun recalled, probably in the memoire that she wrote in her later years, that the queen ‘walked better than any other woman in France, holding her head very high with a majesty that singled her out in the midst of the entire court’.

Not surprising with that hairdo!

Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, Portrait of Marie Antoinette, 1778, Met, New York

But how did she manage it? Well, I guess part of the point of having hair like that is that she didn’t manage it herself. Frames, padding and hair extensions all played a part. The hair was curled with hot tongs and then covered in lard which acted as 18^th century hairspray. Delicious. The piece de resistance, however, was created when the whole thing was dusted with lead powder. So smelly, toxic and altogether a bit of a nightmare because, of course, this kind of do was a bit of a mission to create and therefore you weren’t going to wash it for a while. Cue head lice at one end of the scale (there was such a thing as a scratching stick), and actual mice at the other end of the scale. It has been said that women wore cages to protect their hair at night. Sounds crazy but it might be true?

The men definitely got the easy end of the bargain as they were the ones wearing the wigs.

Vigée Le Brun, by the way, encouraged Marie Antoinette to go for a more relaxed look, which, it’s said, the queen actually favoured. This was exhibited at the artist’s first Salon in Paris very briefly because she was asked to remove it after a day or so as it was condemned as inappropriate for the public portrayal of royalty because Marie Antoinette looked ‘undressed’.

You can see that Vigée Le Brun herself went for the same look!

Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, The Muslin Portrait, 1783, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun Self-Portrait with Straw Hat, 1782, National Gallery, London

Now this is beautiful hair! This is Empress Elizabeth of Austria. Her hair was absolutely her pride and joy. It fell to her knees apparently – at least it did when she was 15 – and in later years she was completely paranoid about it falling out altogether. Which it may have done because she suffered from eating disorders. She used to have a light coloured silk cloth placed underneath her whilst her hair was brushed, after it had been washed with brandy and egg whites; presumably the egg whites first (?!), and then she’d count to see how many she’d lost. I imagine her maid was always worried about it being too many as life probably wasn’t nice for a while.

This is a completely mesmerising portrait by Franz Xaver Winterhalter. The stars in her hair! The shine! She’s absolutely stunning.

Franz Xaver Winterhalter, Empress Elisabeth of Austria, 1864, Collection of the Prince of Thurn and Taxis

Stunning and very sadly absolutely miserable. Apart from her eating disorder, she suffered from very low self-esteem and bouts of depression, was exceedingly unhappy in her marriage, and, at one stage, had a nervous breakdown.

The thing that she wanted to hold on to was her beauty which became an obsession. According to her various biographers, she began to live on a diet of meat juice, fresh milk and egg whites mixed with salt. She travelled with her own cows, not sure about the hens or other animals…

To keep her waist tiny, she slept with hot towels around it and wore a silk mask with raw veal in it, presumably not to bed, but hopefully only when she was alone.

Her strange, troubled life was cut short when she was assassinated aged 60 by a crazy anarchist who just wanted a murder a royal. Sadly he crossed paths with her first when she was walking by Lake Geneva. I’m sure she still had great hair.

On that note I’m shortly off to get my hair washed in brandy.

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Apr 01

Love0

April Fools!

By Lynne Hanley April Fool, Elevenses, Talking art

The exciting news in this week’s episode, should you have chosen to believe it, is that I announced that some of my work is going to exhibited by the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation. According to me, the foundation are preparing an exhibition around his work ‘Erased’ (the one where he took a drawing by William de Kooning and rubbed it out), which is going to raise money for artists affected by COVID-19. For those that have followed me for a while, you will know that I created a ‘Curated Canapés and Cocktails’ video on the subject along with a trailer that involved me drawing the most embarrassing self-portrait EVER to then, well, erase. I was delighted to be giving the foundation the rights to show the video and display my erased portrait.

If only. The date of the original broadcast was 01 April.

Here are my self-portraits(!!) and you can see the full video of ‘Erased’ here and the trailer here.

Lynne Hanley, Self Portrait, 2020

Self-portrait Lynne Hanley mercifully erased

Lynne Hanley, Self Portrait mercifully erased, 2020

The theme of this episode continues with the Council of Trent. Or at least with a painting of the council of Trent, which is in the Museo del Palazzo del Buonconsiglio (palace of good council) in Trent. At some point during the Council of Trent the ‘good council’ was to switch to the Gregorian calendar which meant that the start of the year switched to 01 Jan instead of 01 April, which the French did in 1582.

The Council of Trent, Museo del Palazzo del Buonconsiglio

Only some people missed the memo and continued to go crazy and party like mad during the last week of March and the first day of April. For their ignorance those poor folk became the butt of jokes and hoaxes; I guess it was quite easy for others to play tricks on them if they were in the party spirit anyway. I have to say that I would likely have joined them (the party-goers, rather than the pranksters!).

Saatchi collection, Thierry Bruet, April Fool

Thierry Bruet, Poisson D’avril, 2018, Saatchi collection

This painting by Thierry Bruet depicts an elegantly dressed lady who is clearly being made fun of as she has a fish attached to the back of her lovely ball gown. Possibly it’s nothing more than a child’s prank and we can see that this little girl on the sofa is happy to share the joke with the viewer, the paper and scissors are on the floor. However, the fish looks as though it’s swimming upstream right towards a certain part of her anatomy which marries with the slightly obsequious expression of the ‘groper’ which leaves me wondering whether something else is going on? The work is contemporary – it was created in 2018 – but it references one of the most common pranks of late 16^th century France which was to pin a paper fish on someone’s back. Why a fish? Because when they’re young and gullible they are easily hooked. So in France, an April fool is a poisson d’avril – an April fish!

The tradition found its way into Britain in the 18^th century and it was also taken up in the US where the theme was expanded.

This final image comes from an April edition of the Saturday Evening Post in 1943 and it’s a fun April Fool celebration full of inconsistencies and jokes.

There’s too much going on to mention here – there are apparently 45 ‘errors’ in this illustration. We might not count as many today as the fact that she is wearing trousers was classed as one of them! After its initial publication, Rockwell said that he’d received a letter from a guy who claimed to have counted 184!

But the thing that really got people talking was not so much that there are fish swimming up the staircase to the left of the image, but the position of the staircase itself! People raged that architecturally staircases don’t go behind chimneys, until someone from Ohio sent a photo of his staircase behind his chimney and shut everyone up.

How many errors can you see? I’d love you to list them in the comments – maybe we’ll get to 45. If we get to 184 we should all start to worry!

Norman Rockwell, April Fool: Checkers, 1943, private collection

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Mar 11

Love0

Erm, a bum squeeze for International Women’s Day?!

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, International Women's Day, Lavinia Fontana, Talking art

I suppose this could really have been the prequel to last week’s Mars by Velázquez. This is the God of War with his lover Venus, tentatively wondering whether he’s going to get away with touching her bum! This is for International Women’s Day – what am I thinking?!

Lavinia Fontana, Mars and Venus, c. 1595, Madrid, Fundación Casa de Alba

We have a similar concept to the Velázquez painting in that all the trappings of war are on the floor, Venus has shimmied out of her chemise and taken off her slippers ready to climb into bed and love, rather than war, certainly seems to be the order of the day. Once again we are invited to come to the conclusion that that love conquers all.

The vase that is so prevalent in the foreground could be a reference to the womb, most often used in reference to the Virgin Mary, or it could be part of anyone of a number of complex rebuses, the simplest of which takes the first letter of shield and vase – s and v (handily the same in Latin), which is an abbreviated form of sotto voce – as in ‘shhh! keep it quiet’ because Mars and Venus were in an illicit love affair. There are various other suggestions along these lines in a book called Lavinia Fontana’s Mythological Paintings: Art, Beauty, and Wisdom by Liana De Girolami Cheney.

Now we get to the point (finally) of this post. The reason that I’ve chosen this work is to celebrate International Women’s Day. Crap choice then, you might be thinking. But is it?!

You can and should read this as a gratuitous bum touching moment. It was created at a time in which the view of a bottom squished on a cushion was sending pulses racing all over Europe, but this is so much more than that. This was painted by a lady called Lavinia Fontana.

Fontana was from Bologna, born in 1552 and trained by her father – as pretty much all female artists of that time were, otherwise they didn’t have the opportunity to become artists. She became the main bread winner in her house and ran her own workshop whilst her husband acted as her agent and raised their eleven children. In later life she worked in Rome under the patronage of the Pope and was the first female painter to be elected into the Academy of St Luke in Rome. Some art historians credit her with being the first woman artist to paint female nudes.

So why has she painted this? It was almost certainly a commission, and it references the slightly out of control desire for the nude seated female bottom.

But look more closely. That hand isn’t quite right on her bottom; the bottom and the hand don’t have a relationship somehow, it’s almost as though the hand is on the canvas rather than in it – or it’s both? Does that make it a double grope?! That’s making a bit of a statement. Then we have phallic symbols, the spiky centre of the shield and the sword, both a bit useless on the floor and instead the sleeve of her chemise has found its way between Venus’s legs. A limp bit of white material. You might also notice that Mars is lower than Venus so she’s dominating him psychologically and physically. I feel that it’s all a bit subversive. If Venus can’t do anything about the arse grab she can certainly wither a man with her superiority! In which case is her look over her shoulder an invitation or is it a look of ‘see what I have to put up with!’?

The flower doesn’t offer much of a clue. It’s been identified as a daffodil or narcissus which could variously allude to the potency love, or rebirth which goes hand in hand with death, or to Mars himself – they bloom in late February and March and he does have some on his helmet too.

But in all this, I have to wonder why they think it’s okay to get jiggy with Cupid in the room? He looks as though he’s fallen asleep over his laptop! Of course he’s there to help us identify Venus, he’s her son, just as the pearls she wears (and sits on!) reference her birth from the sea.

Cupid detail Mars and Venus Lavinia Fontana

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page

Mar 04

Love0

March on!

By Lynne Hanley Elevenses, Origin of March, Talking art

What makes this fresco from Pompeii relevant to the origin of the month of March? It’s all about the God of War. The Greeks called him Ares. The Romans called him Mars. That’s a clue! March was named after Mars in the Roman calendar because it was at this time of the year that military campaigns could recommence after the winter months.

I’m slightly worried for this chap that he’s off to war wearing only a helmet and a cape. I understand that we have to distinguish him as the God of War but I feel he might get chilly – it’s only March after all, not the middle of summer.

Fresco Painting of Mars, God of War, Pompeii, 1^st century BC

Why is he basically nude? Well, the ancient Greeks came before the ancient Romans, the ancient Romans thought the ancient Greeks were marvellous and copied much of their art – the sculptures in particular. Only they copied the original bronze sculptures in marble and then melted down the originals to use the bronze, hence not many of the original Greek statues survived. The nude in Greek culture was a symbol of the hero, disassociated with reality, elevated from the troubles and conventions of the real world. So in this fresco, the Romans have emulated Greek statuary and portrayed Mars as a hero ready to go into battle. Got it?!

Diego Velázquez, Mars, c.1638, Prado, Madrid

If he looks heroic but unready to our eyes, Velázquez’s Mars is properly peeved to be popping his armour back on. That might be because, in Velázquez’s hands, he has something possibly just as energetic but hopefully rather less dangerous that he’s leaving behind. Look at all that sumptuous bedlinen – that’s definitely not a soldier’s single bed.

Velazquez Mars detail

As a side comment and a bit of a giggle, does that not look like the top of a hold-up on his left thigh? It’s the result of a correction that has become apparent as paint has become more translucent over time I would imagine so sadly, I don’t think we can claim that Mars was into wearing stockings or hold-ups, but so what if he was?

This is Mars as he’s rarely depicted. Older, perhaps slightly defeated, magnificent handlebar moustache, absorbed in his own thoughts.

How do we know he’s Mars then? The helmet again and the rest of his armour still on the floor – it’s a sort of transitional moment from man to soldier.

It is unusual but as it was in the Torre de la Parada, the royal hunting pavilion on the outskirts of Madrid, the leisurely, off duty feeling of the work can I think be explained.

There is also a tradition in art that when armour and the instruments of war are scattered on the floor, especially with a sumptuous bed in the frame, we can assume that war has been defeated by love, or that love conquers all.

Tom Selleck as Mars

P.S. it has been mentioned that Velázquez’s Mars bears a little resemblance to a certain moustachioed film star… what do you think? Comments please!

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Feb 25

Love0

Did Cupid ever grow up?

By Lynne Hanley Cupid, Elevenses, Talking art, Valentines day

When you think of Cupid, what do you think of? A cute toddler with wings and a bow and arrow? That’s definitely the image I conjure of him, which begs the question, did Cupid not actually grow up?

If you take this glorious image by Titian and look closely at Venus’s face, she might have been a little worried too.

Titian, The Worship of Venus, 1518, Prado, Madrid

Detail of Venus from Worship of Venus for Alfonso d'Este

Detail from Titian’s Worship of Venus, 1518, Prado

There is a story within Greek mythology in which Venus complains to Themis that her son is really cute but he’s never left the toddler stage and she’s worried.

So Themis has a moment of contemplation and says you know, I think he’s not growing up because he’s always alone – get him a companion and they’ll grow together.

Venus has another baby, Anteros, the god of requited love, and as soon as Cupid, or Eros to give him his Greek name, saw his brother, he grew. Unfortunately, as soon as he was separated from Anteros, he reverted back to a toddler.

What’s the moral of the story? In order to grow, love needs to be reciprocated.

They made quite a good little team – Cupid maintained the task of hurling his arrows to ignite passion and Anteros protected those who found a love match. Here they are in this tondo with Eros forging arrows in a fire on the right and Anteros stoking the flames with his bellows on the left. Sweet.

Eros and Anteros Gods of Love and Requited Love

Unknown artist, Eros and Anteros, tondo in courtyard of the Villa Salviati, Florence, Italy

Of course, however, they also had brotherly spats.

In this fresco from the Casa dell’ Amore punito, literally translated as the House of Love Punished, in Pompeii, Peithò (Greek goddess of persuasion and oratory) is leading Cupid/Eros in on the left to be told off by his mother, Venus, for firing his arrow at the wrong target. Peithò looks encouraging but I think Cupid has seen the look on his Mother’s face! Behind Venus, Anteros is delighted that Cupid’s in trouble. It’s nice to know that there’s something normal about this pair.

Eros and Anteros House of Love Punished Pompeii

Wall painting in the House of Love Punished, Pompeii, 1st century AD, Archaeological Museum, Naples

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Feb 18

Love0

Be my Valentine? No way, you’re in the Tower of London!

By Lynne Hanley Art Tours, Elevenses, Valentines day

The first known Valentine was sent from prison and involves a tale of royal in-fighting, warfare and imprisonment in the Tower of London.

The ‘valentine’ itself wasn’t a card but a few lines in a poem, written by Charles, the Duke of Orléans, in 1415, when he was 21 years old. Charles was caught in the crossfire of a fight for the control of France between his father, Louis I, who presided over the House of Orléans, and his uncle’s family which oversaw the House of Burgundy. His uncle also happened to be ‘mad’ Charles VI of France. When Charles Duke of Orléans was captured at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, he was held as a pawn by the Burgundians in the Tower of London and wrote his wife a letter from his cell that included the lines:

‘God forgives him who has estranged / Me from you for the whole year. / I am already sick of love, / My very gentle Valentine.’

Unknown artist, Miniature from Statutes, Ordonnances and armorial of the Order of the Golden Fleece, 1473, Gerard Collection

Charles writing a Valentine from the Tower of London

Unknown artist, Charles of Orleans in the Tower of London, Book of Poetry of Charles d’Orleans, 15^th century, Royal MS 16 F II, British Library

OK, this might not look like a dank and dingy cell in this image, but here is Charles writing his letter, over on the right side of the picture at a table under the archway. I’m thinking that the artist has taken a liberty with the actual architecture of the Tower of London to allow us a peek inside, not to mention the tiny walls, but is that London Bridge in the background? I think it is! There were houses on it in the early 15th century, as this fantastic model created in 1987 by David T Aggett, a liveryman of the Worshipful Company of Plumbers shows. Photo credit the Londonist.

Old London Bridge

Back to Charles who is also at the window in the centre of the composition, and then featured again outside giving his masterpiece to a courier to take to his wife, who by the way he was never to see again. He was held prisoner for 25 years, and she died before he was released.

Another early adopter of the term ‘Valentine’ was Margery Brews who wrote to her one true love in February 1477 pleading with him not to leave her over her underwhelming dowry! They do get married, you’ll be happy to hear, and Margery has gone down in history as the first person to write a Valentines note in English.

Margery Brews first Valentine note in English

Margery Brews, The Paston Letters, February 1477, Add MS 43490, f.24r, British Library

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Hard Candy

Flora the ambitious blonde

Salomé: the dance that will make you lose your head!

Luncheon of the Boating Party

Hair Matters!

April Fools!

Erm, a bum squeeze for International Women’s Day?!

March on!

Did Cupid ever grow up?

Be my Valentine? No way, you’re in the Tower of London!

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