Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Gabriel Dawe: A new artist for me

Through the site Colossal, I found the work of Gabriel Dawe, whose thread installations
Gabriel Dawe, Plexus series (more at Dawe's own site)

remind me a lot of the work of minimalist art of Dan Flavin
I like the way the thread is itself sculpture and the way the space and light are transformed by seeing through the thread.

Though thread is Mr. Dawe's primary medium, the sculptural piece, Don't Ask Don't Tell, is very powerful--a visualization of how policies may seem normal on the exterior but the damage they do to the psyche is considerable:
Gabriel Dawe, Air Force/ Don't Ask Don't Tell, 2010, pins and boots



Saturday, August 11, 2012

Artwork: St. Claire

Click here or the image to go to Met's entry. 
The Bishop of Assisi Giving a Palm to Saint Clare, 1350, German, tempera and gold on panel

This is a fine example of what I like in Gothic art--
1. highly narrative (the bishop extended the palm to her specifically on Palm Sunday, as part of her choice to enter communal life; it is clearly also meant as a reference to her future sainthood).
2. figures in the International Gothic Style: delicate, swaying bodies, elongated hands with thin curving fingers, sweet precious faces.
3. even the grotesque stigmata on St. Francis's hands are cute little red dots
4. the beautiful tooling of the gold in the background--heavenly setting, luxury cues
5. the introduction of naturalistic elements--perspectival rendering of the book that hangs over the edge of the table, shading in the folds of the altar cloth.

1350 is a pivotal artistic point: right on the wake of the devastation of the Black Death, situated in the luxury of the past (though celebrating here figures who gave up their wealth specifically to be part of the Church--and who worked for the institution itself) as well as the hinted styles of the Renaissance.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Ask the Art Historian: Framing History

Dear Ask The Art Historian,
Yesterday, I visited the smallish art gallery in the Bellagio in Las Vegas, which happens to be showing an Impressionist exhibit, mostly focused on Monet. I liked the art, I mostly liked the presentation (text, audio--the ordering/layout was a little odd, but not bad). But one thing in particular surprised me:

All of the paintings were framed in these big thick ornat
e old-looking gilded frames, mostly covered in bas-relief leaves and vines. To my eye, the frames were both ugly and kind of in opposition to what the painters were trying to do.

Did they use those frames because those were the original frames or something? Do paintings keep their frames when they move from one collection or exhibit to another? Do curators decide what frames to use, reframing physically as well as metaphorically? Are frames chosen to complement the art?


Sincerely,
Framed near Frisco

So my initial response when put to the research test seems to have been correct, so score one for me.
I am adding the short answer here, in case you don't want my dissertation on frames:

Frames were part of a separate but parallel decorative arts culture.  Frames are part of a legitimation of the work as "ART" and "WORTH", partly because they are part of this separate luxury arts economy.  I can't tell you if they're all the original frames but likely yes.  Frames are generally kept if they are in good condition: curators find them culturally interesting as part of a work's provenance, and are generally VERY conservative about touching a work (especially at edges where the work can be damaged).  Reframing now tends to follow the idea of being unobtrusive of the "WORK"; we tend to see the work as the art and the frame as a necessary tool.  

This was certainly not always the case.  Go back a little with me in the history of framing:

1. Medieval paintings were primarily altarpieces so the frame lent both structural support and shaped the composition in a meaningful interpretive way.  You could see the emphasis on certain saints or stories by their placement in the whole assemblage.  The frame served to give even more importance to these figures, setting them within elaborate arches.  The carving of frames was actually a fairly important (and therefore lucrative) artistic practice that went together with the painting process (i.e. Jan and Hubert van Eyck). 

I think in these cases it is really wrong to think of the frame as separate from the work--they are integral in form (and often in structure--being doweled into the panel themselves).  Think too about the ways in which these altarpieces opened and closed--the frame shaped the experience.  Finally--the opening and closing structure of altarpieces made the frame a part of the religious experience all the way through the early 16th century for sure (Matthias Grunewald, Isenheim Altarpiece, 1506-15) so it's wrong to think of framing experiences just dying out.

2. Prominent Renaissance artists (Leonardo for instance) worked elaborate frames for images.  There are a number of ways we could point to frames as part of Renaissance artistic culture.  Massaccio's Holy Trinity, 1425 is a fresco that creates a physical space to open the theological space for the external viewer.  And a frame is certainly part of the message of a marriage portrait such as Piero della Francesco's of Battista Sforza and Frederico da Montefeltro, 1472.  It sets them in a Classical/Classicizing context, highlighting the wealth of this marital alliance.  Think too about the development of the miniature in the Elizabethan courts--portraits that were highly personal, charged with associations of sexual attraction and/or political allegiance, that were encased in frames that signaled their personal nature (and allowed them to be carried or worn).

As painting moves from the sacred to secular venue, it doesn't lose the values of wealth associated with the frame, nor does the economy of frame makers disappear.

3. In the Baroque--as there was an increased interest in the drama and elaborateness of the interior, the frame was going to become even more elaborate.  Overlap between media is really clear: silver makers and frame makers use the same design motifs. 

4. These trends don't deteriorate over the Rococo, but intensify in 18th c. Europe.  British Grand Portraits often use the frame as commentary--pretty flowers for women, carved masculine items for men.  I was struck however that there is a tendency to tone down (but not eliminate all of the gaudiness) the frames in some 18th century images--especially Republican sentiment ones (David's Death of Marat, Oath of the Horatii; many Copley images); David's Napoleon images return to the frame as a sign of imperial status.  But the 18th century is difficult precisely because Rococo and the French elite style, the Enlightenment and the sparer style associated with the revolutions and science, the Romantic response are ALL current at the same time (and all seem to have effected frame styles).  Again, artists like Chippendale worked in furniture and frames, with substantial overlap in the decorative arts.

5. 19th century frames are coming out of a number of styles--Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood artists like William Morris, the Aesthetic movement, Art Nouveau, architectural works by folks like Stanford White.  These are somewhat allied with painting styles but also closely allied with decorative arts styles.  And you can never discount that the 18th c. traditions of framing hang around.

More than anything: I think the tradition of frame as signifying ART, and coming from the stylistic traditions of small scale precious furnishings is why you see these frames as not matching the works of the Impressionists.  Remember--they're a style outside the Academy/Salon.  They aren't what is familiar and desirable.  As a group at the time, their art sold poorly and outside the Salon system.  I'm advancing the idea here (and I'd need to dig a lot more to prove it) that the frames are chosen by patrons to match a tradition of ART display already established/entrenched, in part to create a pedigree that these artists were outside. 

Conservation and curatorial choices will have to be another post.  This is WAY too long already and nobody read this far.
Got a question? Ask the Art Historian for clarification and pontification!

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Screaming Cupid

It is, in my humble opinion, a better name for a band than it is as a work of art by Hendrick de Keyser I, 1615, recently purchased by the Rijksmuseum.
image from Art Daily

I'd never heard of Hendrick.  I learned quite a bit about him--primarily known as an architect, he was also renowned as a portrait sculptor.  If you're interested, you can find some examples and an entry here at the Rijksmuseum.

I love the story--that Cupid, nosing around for honey is stung by a bee and sets up howling.  Venus comforts him but also reminds him that if a tiny bee causes so much pain for the sweetness of honey, how much more pain is caused by Cupid's arrow for the sweetness of love.

The art doesn't really work for me: these extreme emotional images were very popular in the 17th c.  Rembrandt, slightly later, makes etchings of his own face in exaggerated expressions.  I do like the mouth with its toothless gums and the chin(s).  But the ears strike me as grotesque distortions that distract from the roundedness of the head.

It's a particularly late Renaissance example--Classical story and some Classical naturalism but with all the drama and physical distortion of the Mannerist period.  This is the period known as the Dutch Golden Age--Amsterdam is an amazingly wealthy commercial center, a Calvinist but religiously tolerant community, coming to its own after the revolt against Spain.  I think something like this reflects this culture--Hendrick is primarily an architect but well known within the merchant oligarchy as a producer of cultured portraits; he's able to allude to the Classical past in a little moralizing tale without transgressing the Christian Protestant aesthetics (and the choice of Cupid as a child is clearly also part of this 17th c sensibility towards family, I think).