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Favourite Paintings.
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Message 1.
Posted by Minette Minor (U14272111) on Saturday, 13th August 2011
No real point to this but interesting anyway.
I grew up with different paintings and took them all for granted, from Impressionaists to many portraits of "ladies and gentlemen unknown", others were Russian Icons, all were simply there.
My first love affair was with Ucello's, "Hunt in the Forrest" at the Ashmolean, I knew nothing about "vanishing points". Scarlet figures rushing into the deep green forrest, the stuff of dreams. I now have three scattered all over the house. I've collected pictures from all over the place, mainly c15th, cheap reproductions I've framed myself. Always loved both Breghals but now find myself being drawn to Waterhouse and the Pre-Raphealites which I'd previously hated. The colours! I've no idea what this says about me, but I can't imagine a home without pictures.
Who else has favourite paintings and why?
(why have I done this?) -
Message 2
Posted by alanpatten (U1866183) on Saturday, 13th August 2011
Because of its proximity to me I like the Constable paintings of Flatford MIll and the River Stour area. However, my favourites are Turners and in particular 'The Fighting Temeraire'
I must admit though that I know very little about paintings and artists.
Regards............Alan -
Message 3
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
I like the pre-Raphaelites, especially Lawrence Alma-Tadema
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Message 4
Posted by Daniel-K (U2684833) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
Whenever I'm down in London I try tio get to the National Gallery just to look at the Arnolfini Portrait (I'll look at other things while I'm there, of course, but it is the Arnolfini Portrait that gets me through the door).
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Message 5
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
Got to be Holbein for me of course. All those portraits of the key players at the court of Henry VIII and by a genius who was able to "capture the intention of the soul". ( I think it was Titian who said that's what he tried to do when he painted any portrait.) My favourite is "The Ambassadors" - those two arrogant, clever young men gazing out so coolly at the brave new world they and their ilk are helping to create. And all that clutter around them! What is the significance of that apparent jumble of objects? I like the air-brushed Anne of Cleves too.
But I've also become fascinated by Caravaggio after seeing a 鶹Լ programme about him last year. You can't really *like* his pictures - most of them are dark, brutal and violent - yet there's a despairing spirituality about them that makes you want to weep.
Spirituality? An odd word to use you might say about the work of a man who led a violent and chaotic life. Caravaggio was forced to flee Milan after wounding a police officer, and in 1606 he actually killed a young man in a brawl. He was always fighting, and he was described as swaggering round Rome, usualy ending up where there was trouble. He consorted with prostitutes - caused outrage in fact when he used one as a model for his Madonna. A fine example of your Mad Dog.
The religious authorities loathed him, although they were happy to make full use of his genius. Caravaggio had no time for the arrogant officials of the Papal court either. I wonder if he knew he was probably closer to God than they were? His religious paintings suggest he knew damn well he was a sinner, but his despair at that knowledge gave him some hope of salvation. In his "Salome with the Head of John the Baptist" *and* in his "David with the Head of Goliath" it is Caravaggio's own head we see. The face of the young David is surprisingly full of compassion - even love - for the defeated Philistine.
One day I'll get to Rome to see his "Conversion of St. Paul". The horse's backside in this work baffles me. It is so *huge* - the focal point of the picture - not poor old St. Paul at all.
SST. -
Message 6
Posted by islanddawn (U7379884) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
I adore the Impressionists and post-Impressionists, and I would never be able to pick one over the other as a particular favourite, love them all. Monet, Sisley, Renior, Pissaro, Cezanne, Van Gough, Seurat and Toulouse-Lautrec for their form, colour, composition and technique. But particularly for their colour.
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Message 7
Posted by Priscilla (U14315550) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
Minette - neither of us spell that well so I think am on a par with you about both Breugals (Sp?) - have copies of many of their works srewn about in two continents. The diagonal construction constant wears after a while but the content never.Honest scenes of everyday lif as it was then - and not unlike early memories of rural life in my own time, still fascinate. The wedding scenes are the most interesting - and I shall ever wonder what was being served in the the bowls of yellow stuff on carrying planks.
I have made treks to distant places see stuff ; the small Bellini Doge, for instance. - and I long for a visit to The Hermitage to see the Flemish collection. I now collect prints of drawings by the masters in all schools. And some painters and sculptors have slid down my ladder of appreciation as a result.
What I would I like most to make off with has to be a painted sketch-like portrait by Toulous Lautrect in The Hermitage - brilliant - and long before Picasso brought this skill to attention.
Regards, P. -
Message 8
Posted by Caro (U1691443) on Sunday, 14th August 2011
I like the Pre-Raphaelites too, but think that might be mostly because the looks of Lizzie Siddell appeal. But quite like stories/morals in pictures too.
I quite like abstract paintings, but some of these tend to date rather quickly. I look at paintings from the 1970s and many of these just look a little boring now - all those stripey or blocks of colours. not surprisingly some of my favourite paintings are NZ ones, especially those of Rita Angus and Doris Lusk who paint landscapes with very strong bold lines. Rita Angus's Cass was voted NZers' favourite (NZ) painting a few years ago.
I like the Impressionists but have perhaps got a little tired of their pre-eminence in art talk. A Monet exhibition in Wellington two or three years ago was wonderful though, and his use of colour is magical.
I spent ages in front of Carravaggio's Beheading of John the Baptist at the cathedral in Malta. But wouldn't say I exactly like it.
Will consider this more later. Interesting topic.
Cheers, Caro. -
Message 9
Posted by Tas (U11050591) on Tuesday, 16th August 2011
Hi Minette,
It is difficult to give specific paintings, because there are so many, so I will give my favorite painters from different periods:
Among the medieval painters I think it would be difficult to beat Raphael, although there are so many absolute masters at that time, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Bottichelli to name just a few. However, I think Raphael has a certain style that speaks to me.
In the next period I would name Peter Paul Rubens. Again there are so many Masters to chose from, but my biggest love is for Rubens.
Then we come to the French School, and here I would say Ingres. We continue to the impressionists and here I love Manet (Dejeuner sur L'herbe, OLympia) and of course I love Renoir.
There are too many impressionists and post-impresssionists, but I agree with my artist niece, Van Gogh.
From there there is only one way to go: Pablo Piccasso.
That is all. Sincerely,
Tas -
Message 10
Posted by stalti (U14278018) on Wednesday, 17th August 2011
paintings - laugh
when i was in primary school our homework was to copy a famous painting - the only one my mum could find was gainsboroughs "Blue Boy" how easy was that - every time i see it i cringe
secondary school same thing but i found an easier one - Mondrians "composition in red ???????" etc - how easy was that for homework
then i went to lotts cottage and saw the constable inspiration and this is my very favourite - hey - i was there !! (and i have seen the painting)
st -
Message 11
Posted by Jak (U1158529) on Thursday, 18th August 2011
Interesting how fashions in paintings change.
In the 1930s coloured prints were given away for coupons issued with various products - tobacco, wholemeal bread, maybe other things. From this source we had on our walls "The Boyhood of Raleigh" and "The Order of Release" by Millais, and "Between Two Fires" by F D Millet. Also "Mother & Son" by H W B Davies, but that was tucked away somewhere. Another in the series was "The Laughing Cavalier" by Frans Hals; my folks hadn't sent away for that one, but one or two neighbours had it.
Millet (an American, not the famous French Millet who painted "The Gleaners" and "The Angelus") seems an interesting chap, and famous in his time,. Mark Twain was the best man at his wedding, and he died when the 'Titanic' sank. But he seems to be quite forgotten today. His painting baffled me as a kid. A Puritan in a big black hat sitting between two laughing women.
The "Boyhood of Raleigh" - two lads in green suits sitting listening intently to an old sailor with his outstretched arm pointing out to sea - never seemed the same again after seeing a cartoon showing the lads looking bored and saying: "Oh no, here he goes again!"
These paintings were fairly popular at the time - maybe they lent a bit of "culture" to working-class homes - but I guess they'd just invite sneering nowadays. From people who have something more trendy on their walls - some abstract coloured splashes, perhaps. (Easy to discomfit them though. Just stare at it and say: "I'm sure I saw that at the Tate Modern, but I think it was the other way up.")
I've still got "The Order of Release" in my front room. Sneer if you must. -
Message 12
Posted by somewhatsilly (U14315357) on Thursday, 18th August 2011
No sneers from me. I'm reading a superb book 'Ways of Seeing', by John Berger, a charity shop find.The first chapter talks about the mystification of art, to quote
"In the end, the art of the past is being mystified because a privileged minority is striving to invent a history which can retrospectively justify the role of the ruling classes".
I'd say that that applies to art in the present as well. -
Message 13
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Thursday, 18th August 2011
I shan't sneer either. Why should I? Be careful,- there's inverted snobbery in art as well as other walks of life.
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Message 14
Posted by Jak (U1158529) on Thursday, 18th August 2011
I shan't sneer either.
Delighted to hear it. After all, "de gustibus..."
As "art" now encompasses unmade beds, piles of bricks, a canvas with a simple slit across it, lights going on & off in a bare room, etc etc, "art" has become a meaningless word. So - I know nowt about art, but I know what I like.
I wouldn't want to sneer at some other person's taste in paintings, but when I'm forever being told, by folk who seem to know all about it, that - say - Picasso's 'Guernica' is a masterpiece, I feel I should trust my own judgment. And it looks like rubbish to me.
But I shan't sneer at folk who say they think it's a masterpiece. I just worry about them. -
Message 15
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Friday, 19th August 2011
You'd have enjoyed this exhibition, Jak.
We should indeed be concerned with "praxis rather than contemplation" - as Van Clomp undoubtedly was:
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Message 16
Posted by hoddles off into the sunset (U14129169) on Friday, 19th August 2011
After a lot of thought, considering Velazquez and Van Gogh, I've opted for
James Guthrie (I'm not sure which is my favourite)
Old Willie - or A Hind's Daughter or Margaret Helen Sowerby -
Message 17
Posted by islanddawn (U7379884) on Friday, 19th August 2011
I agree with Jak and Raundsgirl, there is much snobbery in the art world (and the food world these days too, unfortunately).
Art is purely personal, it really shouldn't matter one way or the other what exactly it is or who created it . As long as whatever is pleasing to the person who is looking at it then one doesn't really need some pompous ass telling them otherwise. -
Message 18
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Spelt the old master's name wrong - meant Van Klomp of course.
Haven't you missed raundgirl's point, ID? Aren't we all snobs - or pompous asses - in one way or another? Don't we all go on the defensive when we think our "taste" is considered suspect? I know I certainly did when a prospective mother-in-law called my taste in art "bourgeois". Stuck-up cow.I still seethe about it forty years on. But why? Because I was afraid she was right of course - my problem, not hers.
I remember going to the Tate Modern and not liking to go on the escalator - I wasn't sure whether it was an exhibit or not.
History of Art degrees are very popular these days - but are they a luxury just for posh kids? Seems that way, which is a great shame. -
Message 19
Posted by Silver Jenny (U12795676) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Temperance, I was being a pompous ass with a friend who is very involved with a modern art gallery. I Didn't like It. . Then I went to an exhibition there & I was overwhelmed by one of the exhibits and had to haul down the colours!.
Years ago I did a course in Florence on Reniassance Art. Over several months I could absorb the whole atmosphere and take time to become involved with the masters. .. Our diminutve italian teacher was a hard task master but good at sharing her love of the period. Favourite was, and remains, Raphael. -
Message 20
Posted by Thomas_II (U14690627) on Friday, 19th August 2011
I´m with the Impressionists and close to them I like landscape paintings very much, as well as the paintings of W. Turner.
This link might fit into the thread. A huge collection of paintings from the National Gallery, my favourite place in London.
I hope some people on here might enjoy browsing through the pages. As usual a very good work provided by the 鶹Լ. -
Message 21
Posted by Jak (U1158529) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Many thanks for that link, Temperance.
I'm impressed, impressed! - and duly humbled in the face of so much aesthetic erudition. As I believe (my Latin is a little rusty) they used to say in ancient Rome:
"Excrementum taurinus cerebrum obfuscabit." -
Message 22
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Friday, 19th August 2011
I'm impressed, impressed! - and duly humbled in the face of so much aesthetic erudition.
I should hope so too.
Hancock's "Aphrodite at the Waterhole" is very similar to Debuffet's "Monument with Standing Beast". As the Standing Beast was unveiled in 1984, twenty four years after Aphrodite, I presume Dubuffet was indeed inspired by Hancock.
I actually love Aphrodite - I would buy a reproduction of her (scaled down model of course) if I could find one.
I can't get a link to Aphrodite to work, but there are lots of Google Images of her.
SST.
PS Apologies to Minette for being silly.
PPS Being sensible again - Derek Jarman's film about Caravaggio is brilliant. -
Message 23
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Did you know that someone actually *owns* a copy of Van Klomp's "Fallen Madonna.......etc". I think it's the Marquis of Bath (no surprise there, then)
Temp, you are right about ID missing my point!
Why should anyone feel compelled to defend their taste? The only criterion is if you genuinely like something and don't just feel you *ought* to like it because others do (or say they do). -
Message 24
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Just seen your post re Aphrodite at the Water Hole. That scene between Hancock and Irene Handl is a classic.
IH: "Oooooh, whatever's that?"
H: "It's a self-portrait"
IH: "Oo of?" -
Message 25
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Hello Temperance,
I can’t help it.
Von Klomp, a Dutch painter that notwithstanding his fame is only mentioned in the 鶹Լ comedy “allo allo”.
Given your proclivities, I had expected that you would choose Henry the Eighth’s portrait with the you know what, or Elisabeth as the ageless Virgin Queen.
How about one of my favorites: the ambassadors, symbolizing a failed diplomatic mission to the English Court by Hans Holbein.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 26
Posted by glen berro (U8860283) on Friday, 19th August 2011
There is only one painting in our house, bought by my brother as a present, and since then confined to my bedroom as nobody else in the family likes it. Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights.
I often wonder whether waking up to see it every morning has affected my state of mind. -
Message 27
Posted by islanddawn (U7379884) on Friday, 19th August 2011
The only criterion is if you genuinely like something and don't just feel you *ought* to like it because others do (or say they do).
Er, isn't that what I said? -
Message 28
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Friday, 19th August 2011
There is only one painting in our house, bought by my brother as a present, and since then confined to my bedroom as nobody else in the family likes it. Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights.
I often wonder whether waking up to see it every morning has affected my state of mind. glen berro, I hope it did.
The painting, like the Ambassors of Hans Holbein is an example of bourgeois symbolism.
It is about making choices; the central panel symbolizes the world, with all its good and bad. If you make the right choice you go to paradise, If you make the wrong choice, well...
By using the same color tone in the left and central panel I think that Bosch is indicating that Paradise is well within reach for the common man.
The painting was originally made for the Nassaus. William the Silent inherited it. When he rebelled against Philip II, it was confiscated by Alva and sent to Philips II as a present.
Though disagreeing about almost anything else, William and Philips seem both to have been partial to the art of Bosch.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 29
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Hello raundsgirl,
You write:
Did you know that someone actually *owns* a copy of Van Klomp's "Fallen Madonna.......etc".
Surely, you must be kidding..?
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 30
Posted by somewhatsilly (U14315357) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Glen, that is one my favourite paintings as well, fascinating, grotesque and beautiful. Lovely colours as interior decor as well which takes me to another point, there are some wonderful paintings that I admire enormously but I couldn't live with, those huge mythological scenes are just too overpowering for a domestic setting for example.
hoddles, did you see the Glasgow Boys exhibition at Kelvingrove? I'd happily have pinched almost any one of them and hung it over the mantelpiece.
I have been known to be a bit dismissive of installation art but then I, quite inadvertently, saw the Tracy Emin exhibition including the notorious bed and that sent me away thinking more deeply that a lot of things I've seen. Taken all together it was very impressive and raised all sorts of questions about what is Art as well as prompting me to think about the similarities in the process of interpretation be it of art, history or archaeology. -
Message 31
Posted by LairigGhru (U14051689) on Friday, 19th August 2011
I'm always pleased when I come across a Norman Rockwell (1894-1978) painting that I haven't seen before. The innocent period he depicts becomes increasingly poignant and attractive as today we painfully watch the U.S.A. go into all sorts of decline.
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Message 32
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Friday, 19th August 2011
Hello Temperance,
I can’t help it.
Von Klomp, a Dutch painter that notwithstanding his fame is only mentioned in the 鶹Լ comedy “allo allo”.
Given your proclivities, I had expected that you would choose Henry the Eighth’s portrait with the you know what, or Elisabeth as the ageless Virgin Queen.
How about one of my favorites: the ambassadors, symbolizing a failed diplomatic mission to the English Court by Hans Holbein.
Regards,
Poldertijger
Hi Poldertijger,
I mentioned Holbein *and* "The Ambassadors" in #5!
I'm surprised you say in a later message, "The painting, like the Ambassadors of Hans Holbein, is an example of bourgeois symbolism".
That clutter of objects in "The Ambassors" *is* hugely symbolic - as is the tiny crucifix which is partly concealed by the curtain. But why is the symbolism bourgeois? Surely it's religious and political? The year the picture was painted - 1533 - and the actual date indicated by the settings on the pillar dial instrument - April 11th - are also important. 1533 was the year of Anne Boleyn's coronation and April 11th, Good Friday, was the precise day it was announced to the Court that AB was to be accorded royal honours. She appeared as Queen in public the very next day - Easter Eve. The cosmati pavement on which the ambassadors stand links to this. -
Message 33
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Friday, 19th August 2011
No, Poldertijger, I kid you not, the aforesaid picture is owned by the Marquis of Bath (and very well suited to each other they are too)
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Message 34
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Saturday, 20th August 2011
Hello Temperance,
You write:
I mentioned Holbein *and* "The Ambassadors" in #5!
Serves me right that you caught me not having read all the messages. On a more positive note, I was right in assessing you to like Renaissance art.
You write:
I'm surprised you say in a later message, "The painting, like the Ambassadors of Hans Holbein, is an example of bourgeois symbolism".
Renaissance art developed out of Late Medieval art. This was art loaded with Catholic symbols meant to sway the believers to follow a religious lifestyle. When the church couldn’t afford the painters’ fees anymore, it resorted to the rich parishioners to help out. These people were happy to help, but insisted that they had to be portrayed on the painting. You can see on the left and right panels of the altar pieces in the Netherlands people watching in contemplation the miracle or whatever is displayed on the centre panel. These are the people that have paid for the altar piece; they are called the founders.
When in the 16th century the Renaissance took off, people were not satisfied anymore to pay for the altar piece of the church; they wanted to have art in their own houses. Of course this meant that the subject of art had to change. However, people had grown fond of the symbolic art of the Late Middle Ages, so they commissioned paintings that had a special meaning to owner. With the words Bourgeois art I merely wanted to convey that the iconography of European art changed considerably.
“The Garden of Heavenly Delights ” and “The Ambassadors ” are good examples of the new symbolic art. Jeroen Bosch had painted “The Haywain”, an allegory of the good and bad choices that people can make in life. Of course, every noble family in the Netherlands wanted to possess such a painting and the rich family of Nassau commissioned “The Garden of Heavenly Delights ” with a meaning like that of “The Haywain.”
Western man will have little trouble to decipher “The Garden of Heavenly Delights ”, but “The Ambassadors ” will pose a big problem, because the symbols are not metaphors for universal problems , but they allude to a personal failure of the original owner. The painting symbolizes the failure of a diplomatic mission to the English Court that was meant to make the English King take part in a scheme that was to bring peace to Europe.
I realize now that the word Bourgeois Art is incorrect, as the owners of the new Renaissance art were mainly members of the nobility.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 35
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Saturday, 20th August 2011
Hi Ploldertijger,
The painting symbolizes the failure of a diplomatic mission to the English Court that was meant to make the English King take part in a scheme that was to bring peace to Europe.
That's an interesting statement - I wish you'd elaborate!
However, I suppose that this thread is not the place to go into a detailed discussion of just one painting, especially not "The Ambassadors": whole books after all have been devoted to the analysis of this superb "Renaissance puzzle". And John North's warning (his book on what he calls "the convoluted labyrinth" of the picture is absolutely brilliant) that visual images from the past (or anything from the past for that matter) can be doubly deceptive is very relevant here: images can puzzle or deceive us in the way an artist intended they should, but we can also deceive ourselves very effectively indeed as we try to interpret a 16th century painting with our 21st century eyes and hearts.
That said, I really do believe that the picture was more than a memento of a "failed mission". Certainly the work should be seen in the context of shifting political alliances, religious conflict and the changing fortunes of the players of the time - all the wheeling and dealing that was going on between the Pope, Francis I and Henry in an effort to manage and/or thwart Charles V, but surely the evangelical themes of the painting are incredibly important? Both Dinteville and de Selve were Catholics, but they were both supporters of religious reform - and the letters that Jean Dinteville wrote to his brother, the Bishop of Auxerre, former French ambassador to the Vatican, during the summer of 1533 are very interesting. They mention the "Grand Maitre" (Anne de Montmorency) - who was a fervant Catholic, strongly imperialist and the most powerful man in France after the King - and suggest that he should not be told about de Selve's presence in London (and possibly the change of instructions he had brought). Seems Francis I was doing his own very delicate balancing act at the time between the orthodox and the reforming factions in France. All bound up with his relationship with his "dear brother Henry" which had certainly cooled by November 1533.
It's all too complicated to explain here - not the time nor the place, but I'll just finish with a comment on the picture by Eric Ives. He, as you would expect, makes a convincing argument for Anne Boleyn's "presence" in many of the details of the painting. AB was possibly a full-blown "spleeny Lutheran" and Holbein himself was "of a reformist turn of mind". Ives concludes: "...the religious message of "The Ambassadors was common to sitters, artist and artist's patron alike." And that religious message possibly went beyond the *politics* of religion. All involved possibly shared a sincere and profound faith. De Selve, unusual for a bishop, seems to have been genuinely religious. In his writings the young churchman frequently comes back to the theme of resolving the religious and political divisions through serving, not a temporal lord, but the "true Master" Jesus Christ. The picture is full of that revolutionary message. -
Message 36
Posted by shivfan (U2435266) on Saturday, 20th August 2011
I've always been a fan of the Renaissance, and the likes of Michaelangelo, Tintoretto, Titian, Caravaggio, etc. But I've also thoroughly enjoyed the artwork of William Hogarth, simply because he started to depict ordinary people, and the sufferings they endured, instead of the diet of artistocrats and monarchs dished up to us prior to Hogarth.
-
Message 37
Posted by Silver Jenny (U12795676) on Sunday, 21st August 2011
shivfan, I agree about Hogarth, in particular The Rake's Progress series. William Powell Frith's Victorian paintings 'Derby Day' and The Railway Stations' are of interest to me; individual faces are so clearly painted and the atmosphere of the day well caught..
I have a postcard of The Wounded Angel by Hugo Simberg, which is in Tampere church in Finland. The artist declined to say what it is about. It is for theviewer to make up their own mind. -
Message 38
Posted by Caro (U1691443) on Monday, 22nd August 2011
Ferval, I saw Tracy Emin's bed on a day when she was there herself with some publicity people or something. My problem with that type of ephemeral installation art is that it is impermanent and I am used to thinking of art as permanent - and usually paintings or sculpture. I wasn't talking to Ms Emin but I did get a chance to talk to whoever was her minder/publicist, and asked about that. I think she said that art didn't have to last forever, and that part of the point of the unmade bed was that it would change and develop or more likely undevelop.
Although sometimes I wonder if some artists aren't just mocking their audience (and certainly some artists play with their art and use it humorously) I am not aware enough of art and artistry to argue about it or condemn it out of hand without more knowledge. There can be no doubt that some art is better than others, however likeable and enjoyable the latter is, just as War and Peace is better than a Barbara Cartland novel, though they use the same medium.
My son at the weekend said something about the art speaking to him "and that is the point of art, isn't it?". I wasn't sure, and I wondered what sort of speech it makes to those people who buy prints of sentimentalised paintings.
Cheers, Caro. -
Message 39
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Monday, 22nd August 2011
Hello Tempererance,
You write:
Hi Ploldertijger
Are you pulling a Casseroleon on me?
You write:
...images can puzzle or deceive us in the way an artist intended they should, but we can also deceive ourselves very effectively indeed as we try to interpret a 16th century painting with our 21st century eyes and hearts.
No contest there, but I feel that historians should at least try to explain the Renaissance set of mind to the audience.
You write:
...I really do believe that the picture was more than a memento of a "failed mission"... I'll just finish with a comment on the picture by Eric Ives. He, as you would expect, makes a convincing argument for Anne Boleyn's "presence" in many of the details of the painting. AB was possibly a full-blown "spleeny Lutheran" and Holbein himself was "of a reformist turn of mind". Ives concludes: "...the religious message of "The Ambassadors was common to sitters, artist and artist's patron alike." And that religious message possibly went beyond the *politics* of religion.
Call me a cynic, but I feel strongly that diplomacy is all about politics.
I wrote:
The painting symbolizes the failure of a diplomatic mission to the English Court that was meant to make the English King take part in a scheme that was to bring peace to Europe.
, to which you replied:
That's an interesting statement - I wish you'd elaborate!
I think that you know deep in your heart , because you wrote:
All bound up with his relationship with his "dear brother Henry" which had certainly cooled by November 1533.
This is of course the key point; France, being chastisised by the house of Austria, was in desperate need of an ally, and even you can’t deny that such an alliance didn’t materialize by Dinteville and de Selve’s mission.
Let us talk about the elephant sitting in the corner; the artist has painted a projection of an enormous skull on the pavement. This skull to me is a symbol that the original owner considered his mission a failure; the chain of events the picture symbolizes spelled doom to France.
You have written in message the exact nature of these events: the anouncement on 11 april 1533 that Anne Boleyn was to be accorded royal honours.
I am of the opinion that Dinteville and de Selve were at the English Court to try to establish an alliance between England and France and that there efforts were in vain because of Henry’s marriage to Anne. Supposedly the French King could not ally himself with Henry now that Henry had broken such an important moral code.
Or do you have a more innocent explanation for the skull?
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 40
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Tuesday, 23rd August 2011
Hi Poldertijger,
Apologies for spelling your name incorrectly.
Back to "The Ambasadors" - just very *briefly*.
I am of the opinion that Dinteville and de Selve were at the English Court to try to establish an alliance between England and France and their efforts were in vain because of Henry's marriage to Anne. Supposedly the French King could not ally himself with Henry now that Henry had broken such an important moral code.
There is certainly some truth in what you say, but it is still simplistic to assert that the painting was commissioned merely to commemorate a diplomatic "failure"!
I don't want to get bogged down in the complicated politics of all this, but the alliance you speak of had already been established - at the summit between Henry and Francis held in October 1532. The deal was that Henry would support the anti-imperial coalition of Protestant and Catholic German princes (the League of Scheyern): in return Francis would use his influence with Clement VII to try to resolve the issue of the divorce. Things seem to have proceeded quite nicely during the winter and early spring of 1532/33 and the French Cardinals actually got His Holiness to approve the issue of the bulls necessary to have Thomas Cranmer made Archbishop of Canterbury. But, as you say, Anne Boleyn's pregnancy and her secret marriage to Henry in January 1533 changed everything. Dinteville arrived in England as Ambassador in February 1533 and in March Lord Rochford was sent to France on a "secret" mission to inform Francis of the new developments. It is likely that de Selve arrived with new instructions for a confused Dinteville.
By the autumn of 1533 Francis had done his own wheeling and dealing with the Pope - all to do with the Duchy of Milan and the marriage of the Pope's niece, Catherine de Medici, to Henry, Duke of Orleans (later Henry II). But that's another story. Certainly Francis in return now for the *Pope's* support over his claim to the Duchy was determined to adopt a seriously anti-Reformist stance in France. He no longer wanted to be Henry's best friend (sadly nothing to do with moral codes).
The choice of de Dinteville as Ambassador is interesting, as is the man himself. Dinteville - as I mentioned in a previous post - was strongly influenced by evangelical reform in France, particularly the writings of Jacques Lefevre d'Etaples. It is very likely that Anne Boleyn had met the young man earlier during her time in France. Religious reform in France was fashionable among the intellectual set, rather as Marxism has been "trendy" in our own times. Both Dinteville and his brother Francis, the Bishop of Auxerre belonged to *the* intellectual set - the reforming humanist section of the French intelligentsia. Dinteville was no doubt chosen as Ambassador to England during the tricky opening months of 1533 because he was known to be a moderate and a man sympathetic to new ideas generally and to the New Learning in particular. What is very interesting is that a few years later he became a little bit too free-thinking and far too unorthodox for Catholic zealots in France. In 1537 both Dinteville and his brother came under suspicion of heresy. They forfeited royal favour and very nearly came a nasty cropper.
Far from his time in England being a "failure" it could well be that Dinteville viewed it as the highlight of his career - especially the invitation he received to accept a prominent part in the coronation of Queen Anne. It was a time in his life he never wanted to forget.
But this is becoming a great long post and I haven't even started on the skull yet (could it have been simply a clever signature? Hohl bein= hollow bone!). There's also a fascinating possible connection to Thomas More ("Remember More!") - everyone was worried about him in 1533!
Just to change tack completely - another picture that I love is one of Anne Boleyn. It was painted a year after AB's death and is probably nothing like her, but somehow it is exactly how I imagine her to have looked. It is by Frans Pourbus:
Pourbus has captured a wonderful wary intelligence in the eyes - very like that famous portrait of the young Elizabeth in fact. -
Message 41
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Tuesday, 23rd August 2011
Why on earth have I put "a year after her death"? I meant a hundred years! It's a 17th century portrait. -
Message 42
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Wednesday, 24th August 2011
Hello Temperance,
You write:
But this is becoming a great long post and I haven't even started on the skull yet (could it have been simply a clever signature? Hohl bein= hollow bone!). There's also a fascinating possible connection to Thomas More ("Remember More!") - everyone was worried about him in 1533!
The relation to More is really clever! I’m not so impressed by your explanation that the skull is a kind of reference to Holbein, though. However revered those artists were, they still had to do exactly as their principal told them to do and I sincerely doubt that Dinteville would have been willing to let Holbein leave his mark on such a scale on the painting.
For argument’s sake, let us presume three theories about the meaning of the skull:
1) the skull represents anxiety about the fate of Thomas More. The painting would thus mean that the main events of the diplomatic mission were the accession of Anne Boleyn and the anxiety about the fate of Thomas More;
2 ) the skull represents the high and low of the fate of Anne Boleyn, e.g. her accession and dead;
3) the skull represents the failure of Dinteville’s diplomatic mission.
I’m sorry but I have to dimiss your theory about the skull representing the anxiety about the fate of Thomas More forthwith. The skull has to do with the diplomatic mission and the mission had nothing to do with More.
And for the same reason I don’t believe that the skull stands for the dead of Anne Boleyn.
You write:
...the alliance you speak of had already been established - at the summit between Henry and Francis held in October 1532. The deal was that Henry would support the anti-imperial coalition of Protestant and Catholic German princes (the League of Scheyern): in return Francis would use his influence with Clement VII to try to resolve the issue of the divorce. Things seem to have proceeded quite nicely during the winter and early spring of 1532/33 and the French Cardinals actually got His Holiness to approve the issue of the bulls necessary to have Thomas Cranmer made Archbishop of Canterbury... By the autumn of 1533 Francis had done his own wheeling and dealing with the Pope - all to do with the Duchy of Milan and the marriage of the Pope's niece, Catherine de Medici, to Henry, Duke of Orleans (later Henry II). But that's another story. Certainly Francis in return now for the *Pope's* support over his claim to the Duchy was determined to adopt a seriously anti-Reformist stance in France. He no longer wanted to be Henry's best friend...
But there is a problem here, because France needed an ally for the war against Charles the fifth, not the papal support for a claim over Milan that he knew would never materialize, the Spanish military being far better than the French’!
In my opinion Francis had decided to cut his losses and go for the next best thing: the marriage of the niece of the pope to the Duc of Orleans. What made Francis change his mind?
You write:
Dinteville arrived in England as Ambassador in February 1533 and in March Lord Rochford was sent to France on a "secret" mission to inform Francis of the new developments. It is likely that de Selve arrived with new instructions for a confused Dinteville.
Which new developements?
You write:
... Anne Boleyn's pregnancy and her secret marriage to Henry in January 1533 changed everything.
Anne Boleyn’s pregnancy and her secret marriage meant that the pope couldn’t possibly assent to grant Henry his so sought after divorce. Francis knew he wouldn’t be able to deliver on the divorce issue, so he decided to break up the alliance with England.
The new instructions of De Selve gave Dinteville little room of maneuvre. The news about the accordance of royal honours to Anne Boleyn made Dinteville realize that his mission had come to an end.
In my opinion the skull symbolizes the news about the accordance of royal honours to Anne Boleyn; whatever the personal feelings of Dinteville he knew that the chain of events that was about to follow would leave France without allies against the House of Austria, so the news about the accordance of royal honours to Anne Boleyn spelt doom to France, hence the skull.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 43
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Wednesday, 24th August 2011
Hello Poldertijger,
Or should that be "Que, Poldertijger?"
Which new developements?
Anne's pregnancy and her secret marriage. Dinteville arrived in England in February 1533: the first hint of AB's condition was made in the last week of that month when she made her famous announcement - probably to Thomas Wyatt - that she had "an incredible fierce desire to eat apples" and that the king had told her it was a sign she was pregnant. No one knew at that stage that she had been through a form of marriage with Henry on 25th January, 1533. As I said above - this changed everything!
And for the same reason I don't believe the skull stands for the dead of Anne Boleyn.
I presume by "dead" you mean "death". Where on earth have I mentioned Anne Boleyn's death? When the picture was painted AB was riding high: she was married; she was pregnant; she was about to be crowned Queen of England.
As for "my" explanations of the significance of the anamorphic image which has so baffled generations of art and history lovers - well, braver souls than I have attempted to explain it and its significance. The following are what I remember from a seminar I attended in 2009 - at the Hampton Court Conference on Henry VIII. I found myself sitting - delighted, awed and speechless (almost) - next to Derek Wilson whose biography of Holbein - "Holbein: Portrait of an Unkown Man" is superb. Wilson suggests the following *possible* interpretations for the skull:
1) Artistic parlour trick - very popular in the early 16th century. Gives Holbein a chance to display his technical brilliance;
2) The skull is actually a de Dinteville emblem. The Ambassador wears a skull badge on his cap.
3) Clever punning references: "hohl bein" = "hollow bone". Even worse is the other suggested pun - crane mer" = "empty skull" = Cranmer!! (Groan)
4) The skull provides a diagonal line which intersects with three others - these diagonals are used by Holbein to direct the viewer's eyes toward the man on the right - Bishop de Selve - or rather towards his *gown*. The colour of the Bishop's robe is very unusual: it is murrey or mulberry or mure or morus! The pattern of the gown is of the mulberry. Apparently a terribly clever visual pun: the skull directs us to "Remember More!" Holbein, the humanist artist and good friend of Thomas More, thus emulates the same kind of play on words - or images rather - as Erasmus, the humanist writer, had used in the title of his "Encomium Moriae: In Praise of Folly". More refused to attend the coronation of Anne Boleyn: he made the wry jest that - now out of favour and impoverished - he could not afford a decent gown to wear for the coronation! It is known that de Selve was extremely concerned for Thomas More's welfare and even more concerned for the implications of his feared fate for the wider world of Christian (free) thought and belief.
OK - all very clever and definitely a bit high falutin. My own humble view is much simpler: that weird skull was indeed simply a good old "memento mori" - remember you must die. All those clever scientific instruments and myriad symbols of human intellectual attainment in the end count for nothing - then as now. "Death comes for us all, my Lord," as More was to say at his trial - in other words the skull - the gruesome distorted death's head - is a return to the theme that Holbein - mocker of futile human grandiosity - had explored earlier in his Death of Dance engravings.
What made Francis change his mind?
He'd got a new best friend - and one guaranteed to put the fear of God - or Allah - into Charles V: Suleiman the Magnificent. Nobody ever mentions *him* and he was so important.
Franco-Ottoman alliance - July 19th, 1533. But handy for His Most Christian Majesty to have the Pope's backing too. What a farce it all was!
Minette - are you still speaking to me? I'm sorry I said I thought Richard III's taking of the throne was illegal, but I cannot lie. Richard did the wrong thing for the right reason. This has been such an interesting thread - thanks for starting it. Sorry if I've become a great White Bore about Holbein - oh heck - I'm supposed to be making a real effort not apologise for everything, but it's terribly hard to break the habit of a lifetime.
SST. -
Message 44
Posted by Vizzer aka U_numbers (U2011621) on Wednesday, 24th August 2011
I've become a great White Bore about Holbein
A White Boar?
Which seemlessly links us to 'Sir Thomas More and his Family' by Hans Holbein. In the 1980s Jack Leslau hypothesized that the painting contained a 'code' suggesting that More's secretary John Harris, depicted in the family portrait, was none other than Richard Duke of York - the younger of the 2 Princes in the Tower.
You can read more here:
It's all very contrived, convoluted and Dan Brownesque but is fascinating nonetheless. -
Message 45
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Thursday, 25th August 2011
Hello Temperance,
Or should I say “Comment, Temperance.”
You write:
Dinteville arrived in England in February 1533: the first hint of AB's condition was made in the last week of that month when she made her famous announcement - probably to Thomas Wyatt - that she had "an incredible fierce desire to eat apples" and that the king had told her it was a sign she was pregnant. No one knew at that stage that she had been through a form of marriage with Henry on 25th January, 1533.
How many could make an educated guess?
I’m not saying this lightly, by the way. The most important task for an ambassador is to inform his own government in which direction the policy of the country that he is living in will be going, no matter how this information was obtained.
And in the same vein... You write:
...in March Lord Rochford was sent to France on a "secret" mission to inform Francis of the new developments.
Which new developements was Lord Rochford to inform Francis of? To which conclusion did Francis come? Which new instructions did de Selve bring to Dinteville?
My guess is that Dinteville should prevent the public announcement of the marriage at all costs! Such an announcement would thwart any attempt by the French King to persuade the pope to grant Henry a divorce. So the day of the announcement of Anne having been granted royal honours was the day that Dinteville realized that the game was up!
You write in message 35:
... I'll just finish with a comment on the picture by Eric Ives. He, as you would expect, makes a convincing argument for Anne Boleyn's "presence" in many of the details of the painting...the religious message of "The Ambassadors” was common to sitters, artist and artist's patron alike
In the picture there is the image of a lute with a broken string and a Lutheran hymn book. The lute with the broken string symbolizes discord. The lute and the hymn book next to each other mean that Lutheranism is spreading discord in Europe. So while I have no problem with attributing a religious meaning to the painting I doubt that the message is as positive for protestantism as Ives thinks it is.
So what was Dinteville’s stake in diplomatic talks? You write:
...the French Cardinals actually got His Holiness to approve the issue of the bulls necessary to have Thomas Cranmer made Archbishop of Canterbury.
The choice of de Dinteville as Ambassador is interesting, as is the man himself. Dinteville - as I mentioned in a previous post - was strongly influenced by evangelical reform in France
and
De Selve, unusual for a bishop, seems to have been genuinely religious. In his writings the young churchman frequently comes back to the theme of resolving the religious and political divisions through serving, not a temporal lord, but the "true Master" Jesus Christ.
Your description of the ambassadors make me believe that Dinteville and De Selve were interested in a reform of the French catholic church, but not in a Lutheran reform. At the time they might have believed that Cranmer was a valuable ally. After all, it would take ten more years for Cranmer to reveal himself as a radical reformer. So certainly Dinteville might have hoped that the French English alliance would be the starting point for a reform of the French catholic church.
Dinteville realized that the accordance of royal honours to Anne Boleyn would put a stop to the French English alliance. He knew that the alliance of Francis with his New Best Friends the pope and the Sultan would make a reformation of the french catholic church impossible. I can’t see how Dinteville could see this in a positive light. So I conclude that the accordance of royal honours to Anne Boleyn meant the end of Dinteville’s hope for a reform of the french catholic church. That is why Holbein had to depict the symbols for Anne having been accorded royal honours and the skull that symbolizes the end of Dinteville’s hope for a reformation of the French catholic church and his fear for a battle for life and death between protestant and catholic Europe.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 46
Posted by Catigern (U14419012) on Friday, 26th August 2011
I like Millais's 'Martyr of Solway', which depicts a lovely, 18yo girl all chained up and helpless...
Actually, it depicts a tragic, rather than a sexy event. The girl and a 68yo woman had refused to refute their reformed religion in 1685, the year the 'most savage tyrant ever to sit on the English throne', Charles II, died and was succeeded by his equally unsavoury brother, James. At low tide, Stuartist soldiers bound them to stakes below the highwater mark, so that they'd be drowned slowly as the tide came in, which duly happened. I know it sounds horrifyingly sadistic, bigoted and barbaric, but that was the post-restoration Stuarts for you...
-
Message 47
Posted by Temperance (U14455940) on Friday, 26th August 2011
I suspect that if we were having a proper conversation, Poldertijger, we should be finding that we are actually more in agreement than disagreement. Do I detect a slight movement away from your original argument that "The Ambassadors" was *merely* a record of a disappointed Dinteville's involvement in a "failed diplomatic mission"?
The painting cetainly records a moment in European history that was of enormous significance, but one surely that was of far more importance than just another shift in the ever-shifting fortunes of Anglo-French diplomacy.
In 1533 men (and women) of culture, taste, intelligence - all those ardent supporters of free intellectual enquiry, lovers of the arts, human beings caught up in the joy and exhilaration of the pursuit of knowledge - men and women in short like Dinteville, de Selve, Holbein - and yes, Anne Boleyn - well, they were all holding their breath.
It was a time of huge hope - and huge fear.
...his fear for a battle for life and death between protestant and catholic Europe.
And there I think you have identified the key to the mystery of the picture, but perhaps in a different way to the one you intended.
The acknowledgement of Anne Boleyn as queen on that Good Friday did not *necessarily* sound the death knell for peace in Europe. Perhaps for Dinteville and de Selve the triumph of the clever young woman represented hope for the future, albeit a precarious hope. It should be remembered that the young Anne Boleyn had been one of the bright young things in the intellectual set surrounding Marguerite de Navarre, that most influential royal patron of Erasmianism in France. Dinteille knew AB from her days at the French Court.
Certainly - as I noted above - Dinteville and de Selve were Catholics (but then so were Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII - Professor G.W. Bernard in his very controversial 2010 book on AB actually queries the popular view of her as a "spleeny Lutheran!"), but - as you correctly point out - the Frenchmen were both supporters of moderation and reform within the church. De Selve's writings indeed were full of "pleas for pacification." Holbein was a moderate Lutheran. But Holbein and his sitters (and very possibly the intelligent new queen) all had in common - along with all other thinking men and women of the time - a very real fear that the real message of Christ was being obscured, hidden, relegated to the sidelines (like the image of Christ crucified in the picture) by narrow-minded dogma, intolerance and tyranny. Tyranny - and repression - *they* were what all Christian humanists were concerned about - what they really opposed - not Luther's arguments (which were intellectually hugely interesting even if quite wrong!).
I would suggest then that "The Ambassadors" reflects the concern felt by Christian humanists - Catholic or Protestant - that the great danger threatening Europe in 1533 was not only that religious conflict would keep men from the *loving* message of God's truth, but that wordly leaders would use "religion" as the excuse to suppress man's God-given freedom to *think*. Religion - any ideology - can be used as a means of oppression, and it was the fear of that looming conflict between tyranny and freedom of thought and expression that was recorded with such passion and brilliance in the work.
SST.
PS Re the lute with the broken string. I think you would be interested in Mary Hervey's interpretation of Holbein's painting as "an allegory of the desired healing of the split in the church" - a healing that we know was fervently desired by de Selve. The lute with the broken string and the Lutheran hymnbook with its German "Kom Heiliger Geyst Herre Gott" - Luther's version of "Veni Creator Spiritus" - is significantly placed near the Bishop, and perhaps indicates a wistful expression of "hope for the reunion of the Catholic and Reformed churches". The *message* of the beautiful hymn is the same after all whether you prefer the Latin or the German version. Hopes for such a reunion had been dashed at the Diet of Speyer in 1529 - and de Selve had been there. The famous earlier Diet of 1526 had decided memorably on the principle that each prince of the empire should be *free* to determine the religion of all within his own territory. The Diet of 1529 was packed with fanantical churchmen bent on reversing that decision. The minority was so heavily defeated that they drew up a formal "Protestation" to the effect that "in matters relating to God's honour and salvation and the eternal life of our souls, everyone must stand and give account before God for himself". The Frenchman's moderate heart must have sunk as he listened to those protesting Germans arguing so vehemently.
The battlelines were being drawn.
PPS Just to get back to the original topic. Here is a lovely painting I have only just discovered. I was reading about Suleiman the Magnificent yesterday and I became fascinated by the love this incredibly interesting man had for his wife Roxelana. She was a former slave girl who became Her Imperial Majesty Hurrem Sultan Haseki. She was another 16th century woman of great intelligence, wit and spirit:
-
Message 48
Posted by Poldertijger (U11154078) on Tuesday, 30th August 2011
Hello Minette and Temperance,
Temperance, you say:
I suspect that if we were having a proper conversation, Poldertijger, we should be finding that we are actually more in agreement than disagreement.
But we have been having one, Temperance! I offer
and 
. And I don’t think that you have become a 
about Holbein, but that you are defending your stance as a proud Jane 
, sorry, no bull smiley I’m afraid, against the 
infestations.
Minette, my favourite painting is “The Betrothal of the Arnolfini” It is painted by one of the first painters to use oil paint. Van Eyck belonged to a group of artists called Flemish primitives, none of whom was Flemish, by the way, who were called primitives because they had’t mastered the art of perspective, yet.
The painting shows the couple waving goodbye to their guests. In the mirror at the back one can see the last guests, one of whom is Jan van Eyck, who was a good friend of Arnolfini and apparently presented the painting as a belated wedding gift. The painting can be regarded as one of the first examples of Genre painting, i.e. a scene of everyday life.
David Hockney has put forward the theory in his book “Secret Knowledge” that the Flemish Primitives were the first to use hollow mirrors to paint lifelike objects and men. In order to paint both close by and distant objects, the Flemish Primitives had to make use of two different mirrors, which of course shows in the picture.
I feel that Van Eyck has painted the mirror in order to show off to his fellow painters that he had mastered the art of painting with mirrors.
The painting can now be found in the National Gallery, London.
Regards,
Poldertijger -
Message 49
Posted by Caro (U1691443) on Tuesday, 30th August 2011
A few years ago I went to an exhibition (in NZ) of paintings by Dutch artists of sometime in the 1920s or thereabouts. I recall very colourful paintings using large slightly distorted farm animals in domestic or farmyard settings. But no recollection of what the style of art was called or any of the artists. And I can never find anything or anyone that would tell me what they were.
I like that Vab Eyck painting too, but suspect it is mostly because of the rich colours, especially the green. And something about what seems to me their timid expressions.
Caro. -
Message 50
Posted by raundsgirl (U2992430) on Tuesday, 30th August 2011
I like that one Caro, and I agree with you about the expressions. And they seem to be overwhelmed by their rich clothing, which is meant to convey how wealthy and important they are (well him, anyway). A bit like modern menfolk wearing unaccustomed morning suits at a wedding because the bride wants it.
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