Both Donatello’s conception of David’s encounter with the Philistine champion, Goliath, and the version wrought by Michelangelo some seventy years later arose from specific political challenges. In the mid-fifteenth century, Florence faced the Milanese Sforza menace. As the century progressed, the Medici family, long ascendant in the city, confronted a republican insurgency which finally expelled them in 1494. By the time Michelangelo had finished work on his David, the resurgent Medici, themselves, were the chief threat to the city’s inhabitants. However, the particular circumstances in each case have resulted in very divergent figures.
Donatello’s statue reflects a triumphalist view of his patrons’ social position in Italy. He depicts the moment of victory. The severed head of the giant lies beneath the boot of a soft, barely adolescent boy with long, flowing tresses. Donatello's choice emphasizes the power of a family at the height of its fortunes.The statue was intended for display in the courtyard of a Medici palace and would impress both guest and passers-by as a symbol, not only of the family’s political potency, but also of its wealth and refinement. To this end, Donatello depicts the victor as an idealized object of desire whose slight military equipage radically offsets his delicate, alluring nudity. Instead of a hardened soldier’s rugged form, we behold an ethereal figure, symbolically defeating a brutish colossus. This is how the Medici preferred to see themselves – not debased by the rough and tumble of Italian politics, but transcending it. Though victorious, they are almost impervious to its coarseness.

Michelangelo’s composition, on the other hand, was finished in circumstances of looming menace from the Medici exiles. He takes as his subject a moment of defiance before the battle ensues. David's sling is readied over his left shoulder as he gazes intently at his foe. Unlike the relaxed contrapposto posture adopted by Donatello, every muscle is tensed and ready to spring into action in defense of the city. Michelangelo’s warrior is bold, mature and committed. Though beautiful, he is no mere love object. The statue was intended for placement on the Duomo, turned toward Rome, the direction from which the invading army was likely to come. It makes a statement. “We are ready to meet your challenge. We will defend our hard-won republic to the last man.”

Regarding the Fair Folk

Fairies represent beauty and feminine power, seduction, trickery, homosexuality, mystery, and enigma. Originally the term was the neutral plural of fatum, meaning "the fates" an equivalent of the Greek Moirai, the personified Fates who determined the course and ending of human life. Singularly the word fey, originally meaning "fated to die" or "having forebodings of death." Due to the identical pronunciation of the two words, "fay" is sometimes misspelled "fey". The afterlife and fairy realm are not far removed from one another. The same legends are told of ghosts and fairies, the sídhe of old Celtic lore in actuality being burial mounds. Furthermore it is dangerous to eat food in both Fairyland and Hades, due to the danger of never returning. The Tuatha de Danaan are associated with several otherworld realms including Mag Mell (the Pleasant Plain), Emain Ablach (the Land of Promise), and the Tir na nÓg (the Land of Youth).

Although in modern culture they are often depicted as young, sometimes winged, humanoids of small stature, originally they were depicted as tall, radiant, angelic beings or short, wizened trolls. Fairies of one kind or another have been recorded for centuries. Capable of shape shifting the fairy may be seen in the form of the selkie (a seal); the kelpie (a deadly water horse), or the malevolent black dog. In ancient times, the fairies were mischievous beings and were often believed to be responsible for lost items, sour milk and, at times unwed pregnancy. In addition they could be portents of the death of a loved one, especially if the apparition was a wailing banshee.

Wings, while common in Victorian and later artwork, are rare in folklore; even small fairies flew by magical means, sometimes flying on ragwort stems or on the backs of birds. Nowadays, fairies are often depicted with ordinary insect or butterfly wings. The wings of the fairy can also denote spirituality or alignment within two distinct houses:
The Seelie court is known to seek help from humans, to warn those who have accidentally offended them, and to return human kindness with favors of their own. Still, a fairy belonging to this court will avenge insults and could be prone to mischief.
The Unseelie Court consists of the malevolent fairies. No offense is necessary to bring down their assaults. They are known to assault travelers, carrying them through the air, beating them, and forcing them to commit such acts as self mutilation or suicide. When allowed the opportunity, they will always prefer to harm—rather than to help—humans.
As most accounts of fairy meeting are made by children it is believed that innocence allows perception. But folklore also alleges that those with a second sight, "madness", fringe elements of society, or those who have recently been touched by illness or death are equally prone to such visions. The most common time of day to see them is at twilight. It would appear that it is during transitional times that the veil between worlds is thinnest and most permeable.

Photo: The Captive Robin by John Anster Fitzgerald

Art is...

Creating a singular definition of Art is as complicated as describing salt to someone who has never tasted it. Art is multifaceted; traditionally art has operated within the realm of religious ritual. Art is also a powerful means of storytelling. Art may also serve as a commemoration of an important event. The event may be of major historical importance, or it may be more personal such as the depiction of a wedding, birth, baptism, or social achievement. Art may also be a means of recording of visual data-- depicting what we see in a particular moment of time. The expressive power of art can be seen in literal ways in the capturing of facial expression and body language. Art can convey intense emotion. Art has often served as a vehicle for propaganda or social commentary, which attempts to persuade one toward a particular viewpoints or action promoted by public or private institutions such as political parties, governments, or religious groups. The artist as social commentator may simply make us more aware of the human condition.
Art can also be seen as pleasing the eye- creating beauty. Yet this idea of beauty, like that of truth, has been challenged in the modern era. At one time, the artist was expected to portray perfection-- lofty and noble ideals of beauty. Yet as society has become more diverse, educated, and industrialized many people began to broaden their notion of what could be beautiful.

In any case, one of the primary functions of art is to interpret the subject matter at hand. Although new subject matter has evolved, the human condition, nature, and events still continue to capture the attention of artists. The media used have changed relatively little; though new materials have appeared in this century, the conventional media continue to be used. Nor can we say that the quality or artistic merit of art works has increased or lessened with time. However, throughout the course of history as society has changed, so also has the interpretation of specific subject matter. A portrait executed by Matisse in 1907 should not be confused with one done by van Dyck in the 1630s. Even landscape is reinterpreted in the context of a changing world. Each work is an expression of the subject in the context of the values, culture, and events of its specific era.

Created in his image...

The spring semester has proven to be much more difficult that I ever imagined dear readers. I anticipated University life to be much more difficult, but the time constraint was not something I was prepared for. I did find a new creative outlet in Ceramics, and my drawing skills are markedly improved, as noted by these tow examples from figure drawing. Le husband is also thrilled that the creative energy that I normally funnel into home re decorating is being diverted. As one of few adult students I have garnered a bit of a reputation for being mean. The fact that I realize how important the passing of time is makes a small division between me and my classmates - most notably during critiques.

Sadly the fact that I am brutally honest does not encourage the same behaviour in others - just fear. I must admit that while others would feel disparaged after being called a douchebag. I relish the title, of course I have had the epithets of faggot and queer hurled at me so many times I think this is a step in the right direction.

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This mural is from the Terror ride of Lagoon, the sole amusement park in Utah. It was my first "haunted" house, and I think I kept my eyes closed the entire time, after witnessing a ghostly white shroud (attached to a hanger-I had already seen mommy dearest at this point so wire hangers were terrifying) that moved at the same speed as the buggy, an ever so stylish cart that made me feel as if I was one of the scooby gang, a five year old earns bravery point for entering right? As the park is only open during the summer, I had mustered enough bravado to re-enter the next summer, and I added one more lifelong fear to my repetoire -- loud car horns and headlights. However this reverence was shortlived; by my seventh year I was already noticing how the objects moved in identical patterns and what components made their motions. So the supernatural weren't so super afterall, just a naturally recurring phenomenon, like a turntable and a pulley. I could tell you the track from memory at this point and I haven't been there since an eventful trip in 1999. (I locked the keys in the ignition with the car running after getting pulled over on the freeway and frisked by the highway patrol) The other macabre offering from Lagoon is Dracula's Castle with elements borrowed heavily from Edward Gorey, Aleister Crowley, mythological, Babylonian, and occultist symbols mixed into a blender and regurgitated as only a conservative religious homogeny could.

I am Incensed...

I am enraged...I am furious! Dear readers please read the following assignment for my Humanities class and let me know your thoughts:


Giovanni Batista di Jacopo (1494—14 Nov 1540) il Rosso, better known as Rosso Fiorentino, (i.e. “the red Florentine,” due to his red hair) was a native of Florence and gathered his artistic powers there under the influence of Andrea del Sarto, along with his lifelong friend, another great Mannerist artist, Pontormo. As a youth, he was practically ungovernable, and so could not properly be said to have been anyone’s pupil. However, his acquisitive mind imbibed influences from a variety of directions including, most notably Michelangelo and prints he had seen from the works of northern artists, particularly the Flemish school. He transmuted these influences, along with his own eccentric psychology and aesthetic taste, into a highly individualistic style which drank heavily from the high Renaissance tradition and yet remained distinctly sui generis and enigmatic. He began his independent career in Rome, but after the traumatic rapine inflicted by Imperial troops in 1527, he like so many of his generation found refuge in Northern Italy. From thence, he, along with the great Primaticcio, was invited by François I Valois to adorn the French court. His work was seminal in the foundation of the Fontainebleau School and helped spread the influence of the Italian Renaissance northward into Germany, the Low Countries and England.
Rosso’s work, like that of many other Mannerists, fell out of favor by the early 17th century, and remained largely neglected until the 20th. For this reason, several of his paintings have been lost and others survive only in copies or through the printmaker’s art. Rosso was also a design artist. Under the patronage of François, he was responsible, not only for paintings to adorn chapels, palaces and chateaux, but also the design of tapestries, theatre sets and costumes, dinnerware, decorations prepared for celebrations and royal progresses, tombs and small-scale objets d’art. It could be that the series of drawings of which the Diana was one, was taken from a lost design for an architectural façade, a festival tableau, or for stucco-work like that which still ornaments the Galerie François Ier at Fontainebleau. Or perhaps it was one a set of studies created preparatory to a painting. Its conversion into a print bespeaks the great popularity enjoyed by the artist in his era. The print and bookmakers art was one of the principle vehicles through which artistic styles and ideals of taste spread far and wide during the 16th century.

Diana predates the artist’s departure from Italy to France in 1530 by many years, but it shows remarkable continuity with his later work there, especially in terms of the depiction of the female nude. Compare, for instance, comparable figures in Mars disrobed by Cupid and Venus disrobed by the Graces (pen and ink drawing, 1530) or Venus in Bacchus, Venus and Cupid (Luxembourg Gallery, possibly formerly at Fontainebleau.) There is much of Michelangelo’s aesthetic in the almost masculine vitality and volume of the figure. The musculature is overdeveloped and there is none of the lithe, graceful quality that one might expect in a virgin goddess of the hunt. This deity is firmly rooted to the ground, almost pyramidal in shape. Her bottom-heavy, lozenge-like roundness mirrors and balances the niche in which she stands. In fact, there may be a nod here to a peculiarly northern ideal of beauty, and this characteristic may explain part of Rosso’s appeal beyond the Alps. Compare this figure to Durer’s Eve (in the famous print, Adam and Eve, of 1504) or to Gossaert’s Amphitrite (in Neptune and Amphitrite of 1516.) In any case, the tendency to exaggerate features, (as in the excessively broad hips and thighs, disproportionately reduced head, delicate fingers, and abbreviated lower legs of the goddess) for purposes of balance and elegance of design, is a common feature of Mannerism. In fact, the spare figure of the stag (a lithe, angular foil for the ponderous roundness of Diana’s form), its neck craning back toward the wall, creates a clear symmetry with the ascending curlicue of the bow. The upward gaze of the tense and menaced creature, unreciprocated by the divinity, and balanced and reinforced by the goddess’ extended left arm, serves to draw the attention upward toward the apex of the pyramid, where the only meaningful action is taking place—the removal of a delicate arrow from the quiver. In Mannerism, natural forms are often manipulated into architectural flourishes and compositional depth, highly compressed (though unavoidable, as here, when set in a niche for statuary). Furthermore, there is a cool impassivity of expression, even though the allusion here is probably either to Diana’s penchant for slaying innocent woodland creatures or to the terrible retribution she exacted upon Actaeon, a hunter transformed into a stag and torn apart by his own hunting dogs because he violated the sanctity of her ablutions. Considering the courtly ideals of the day, the ultimate meaning, if one is required for such an appealing image, is probably the power the beautiful, virtuous woman exercises over her trembling, love-struck suitor. Yet she draws her arrow to dispatch the poor creature softly and impassively—la belle dame sans merci to perfection. Such a conceit would be deeply appreciated by the late Valois court—preoccupied as it was with pleasures of the flesh and soon to be dominated by the formidable Diane de Poitiers, the goddess’ namesake. The lack of emotional engagement is another typical feature of Mannerist style, although in other examples of Rosso’s work emotion is violent, stylized and incongruously contrasted across the composition. In this sense, it is pure artifice, like the court masques that were so popular in this era—an entertainment designed to appeal to our sense of the beautiful, flatter our knowledge of classical allusions, and draw us out of the filth and imperfection of daily life.

REFERENCES:

Biography of Rosso Fiorentino, at Web Gallery of Art (http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/bio/r/rosso/biograph.html), viewed 2 Feb 2008.

R. J. Knecht, Renaissance Warrior and Patron: The Reign of Francis I. (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 425—461.

Bernard S. Myers and Trewin Copplestone, ed. The History of Art. (New York: Exeter Books, 1985), 512-535.


Now should I feel flattered as she has questioned my intelligence and integrity by her intimations of plagiarism? Good thing I am cute when I'm angry!

By this time next week...

the party will be winding down. What was that, yes dear readers, Le boyfriend and I will be throwing another party. And in truth that is why I have written so very little. Christmas seems to be a time when everything takes a bit more care, and a bit more of your budget. I am not one to prescribe to the bigger is better adage, but I also don't want to offend any family members or friends either; during the holidays emotions tend to run high. On that thought I want to share a few points; if in doubt whether to send a christmas card to an old friend, colleage, or distant relative err on the side of caution - it is the season for spreading cheer. Not the season to perpetuate jealousy, rivlary, or whatever bad blood seeps through familial veins. As for friends new and old what better time to reconnect.
There is no correct or definate date to mail Christmas cards, my family has an odd race to beat the rush. My dear sister overnighted hers in order to beat the traditional post - as we tied last year. Benefits of mailing early are that you can add anyone you may have forgotten or missed through some oversight.

Photo: "After the Party" by Andy Warhol

Visit to MiMA

Upon arrival at the Mint Museum of Art, I learned with mixed emotion that there would be no charge for admission (regularly $6 for adults, $5 for students) because portions of the two-story building were closed for renovation or installation of new exhibits. The first floor is dominated by the admissions area, but also accommodates restrooms, a gift shop, and a special events auditorium. As a repeat guest, I found many new reasons to visit again, particularly on Tuesday evenings between 5 and 10 pm, when admission is waived. Textiles, ceramics, and stonework from Mexico, Central, and South America comprise a quarter of the second floor. I was astonished by the lifelike detail, taken directly from nature, in the water vessel effigies of crawfish, crabs, and corn cobs. Ecclesiastical and secular paintings from the Spanish Colonial era, many with frames as impressive as the portraits themselves, are sure to delight. These collections as well as a children’s educational center are linked by a second gallery which holds traveling displays, or changing exhibitions, but during my visit, they were unavailable.
One of the largest departments within the museum is the Department of Prints and Drawings. Of the more than 27,000 items in the Museum’s permanent collection, 3,000 reside here. This department also includes maps, watercolors, photographs, and collage. In order to protect these pieces from the damaging effects of ultraviolet light, works on paper are displayed on a limited basis and rotated within the Alexander Gallery (the north entrance) or the Crosland Gallery, which leads to the Dickson gallery. This last space is home to a lively collection of African art including carved masks, textiles, figurines, and ceramic vessels. The Mint Museum boasts an impressive ceramic collection, which, like the department of prints and drawings, is located throughout the museum. These works illustrate an important aspect of our North Carolina heritage-- the renowned Seagrove pottery works.
In the Belk and Tate galleries, the visitor will find many impressive examples of contemporary art (works created after 1945.) This collection is particularly appealing to my aesthetic taste. In my discussion of these pieces, I will attempt to sidestep a strict definition of art, and the subjective taste of artists and art lovers. I find that I am drawn to pieces where a juxtaposition of thought, feeling, or form is presented. Many works in this area connected with me, such as North Carolinian Maud F. Gatewood’s Wind and Snow (1977; acrylic on canvas) which is evocative of Pop art. The painting is geometric rather than organic. Snow laden boughs of impressionistic evergreens are exaggerated by a repetitive barrage of painted snowflakes, represented by thin, uniform diagonal strokes, similar to Morse code. These dots and dashes suggest movement, and are the true subject of the piece. Angular trees with stark, leafless branches lead the eye of the viewer to the focal point of the painting, where footprints from migrating animals leave an intense feeling of restlessness--a final statement that comfort, safety, and warmth, should be sought elsewhere. Her simple palette of black and white acrylic relies heavily on shading and the use of negative space within the composition. The asymmetrical balance interplays with the parallel lines of the snowflakes to evoke a strict, frozen environment, perhaps a reminder of the harsh, rigid cold that winter represents. It reminds us of a reality all too evident to the average man before the introduction of central heating.
Another more playful dichotomy is presented by Kehinde Wiley in the oil and enamel on canvas portrait of Philip the Fair (2006). Inspired by an antique stained glass window, the artist gives the composition a modern update by portraying a black youth in an Astros jersey, designer jeans, and Nike hi-tops. The figure is surrounded by an intricate neon floral motif, suggesting baroque elegance. The pattern is evocative of lavish European aristocracy and the repetitious scrollwork and flourishes of fine Chinese porcelain and textiles. The pun is revealed in the title of the work, as a reference to Philip IV of France, who was nicknamed “le Bel” in reference to his handsome appearance. The larger-than-life size of the solitary figure, coupled with the bright magenta, orange, and lime green of the artist’s palette, satirizes the self aggrandizement evident in current cultural norms (prioritizing self over community) and which is particularly characteristic of the current hip-hop milieu. Alternatively, it can be read as a comparison of the expansionist conflicts and turf wars of the Capetian monarchy with modern gang-related “street wars”.
In the corner, a brilliant abstract sculpture by Siobhan Hapaska, born in Northern Ireland, titled Perpetual (2001), consists of a glass-encased pine tree, whose shorn needles have been repackaged within clear glass bulbs and used as ornaments upon the denuded branches. While perfectly preserved, the tree’s artificial presence inside the building, far removed from its natural environment, is designed to cultivate conversation over life, death, and the skewed priorities of our commercially-driven culture. It points out in a flash of stark reality that a natural entity is not enhanced by our appropriation and adornment of it—that in fact, our appropriation leads to its death.
A visit to the Mint Museum of Art has much to recommend it. This institution provides a venue both for the exhibition of talented, but otherwise unknown, regional artists like Rod MacKillop, and more renowned figures like native Charlottean Romare Bearden, who warrants and is assigned a gallery of his own. The curator has successfully encompassed elements of the distant past, regional history and the rapid, and ever-changing, pulse of modern art. And with a little planning or a little luck, you may get to see it all for free!

The young man and the sea by Hippolyte Flandarin has long been my favorite painting, and while the rest of the world has moved onto modernism, and other forms of contemporary art. I relish classical form. I also find that the mood of this piece can fluctuate from downright depressing to deeply introspective.
It provides me a reminder of the adage that we came into the world with nothing and we leave with nothing. While life should not be a solitary thing; self expression - the ability to share our viewpoint, thoughts, feelings, and reactions are the core of art. Artists have a variety of visual outlets; painting, sculpture, drawing, and photography. Others paint with words through poetry. Some escape to completely fantastical worlds, and while I appreciate the work of Salvatore Dali, I don't respond to it as I do the Dutch masters, or the genius of the renaissance. Art also provides a history of the intellect of mankind - allowing glimpses into our collective understanding as a species, and of our shortcomings.

Deep Blue Mystery

Chamelion skies and churning seas, filled with possibilities.
Half secretive this hazy gaze; a cloudy veil which swirls and sways.
Heavens heights and depths of sea, pique our curiosity.
Masked by the obscurity, perpetuating mystery,
A mermaid hidden in the hues, might there be a martian too?

Memento Mori

I'll admit that art fascinates me, and the human mind. We have an amazing ability to remember, label, and classify things and experiences. But let me focus as not to be intentionally vague. Beauty is an ideal for some, myself included. I am mesmerized by the play of light across flower petals or across a body of water. Fountains offer countless hours of distraction as do flames lapping at a hearth in winter. Serene in the unstillness, a respite from a hectic world or a return to nature and the simple knowledge that the elements consume constantly. Seasons come and go; first stark and barren fields are worked and toiled, graced by water, sun, and seed. But risk and dangers are continual; an early (or late) frost, insect infestation, or drought. In that vein artists across the generations have attempted to capture images of bountiful harvest and bloom, to counter winter months. I draw inspiration for my paintings from nature, but often get distracted by the call of the sunshine and the duties gardening dictates. One becomes a willing servant, at least I try to remind myself of this in 90 degree weather as weeds must be removed. Seeing the miracle of a velvety rose petal, or smelling the fragrance of sweet honeysuckle makes all the toil worthwhile. I also admit that the colors of natures bounty perpetually amaze me. It's a sensory extravaganza.

Painting: Iceland Poppies by Leon Roulette

To accept ones limitations...

I was recently talking with an acquaintance about my penchant for envy, and while I don't spend long hours drooling over others' possessions I do have small moments of jealousy when someone has been particularly successful or rewarded - I harbor a secret desire for fame and fortune. I'm very grateful for the wit and wisdom that I possess, I consider myself a jack of all trades and a master of none, adept at many skills and well versed on a variety of subjects. Do I blame my short attention span, or is it some greater flaw, (perhaps my lack of patience,) that prevents my success? Do I lack the due diligence to complete a project from beginning to end, or am I too quick to judge a life that is still forming? Have I set such high expectations that frustration is the only fruit of my endeavor?
Since I have recently returned to oil painting, I seem to experience moments of clarity. Paintings, like life, are representations of things that are not tangible; the way light filters across a stream or pathway is palpable, but these moments of beauty pass while we try to recreate them. Life is a journey not a destination. The painting process takes skill and personal mastery of subtle nuances. The effort to place a three dimensional image onto a two dimensional surface will face inevitable obstacles including, but not limited to, those of size, subject, skill, and resource.
In my pursuit of happiness, beauty is a constant muse, albeit elusive. Spring and summer flowers continually delight through revolving seasons, and Winter glamour mezmerizes. Stroking luxuriant fabrics, bold damasks, and sensual velvet provoke near ecstasy. Visions of grandeur or delusions as so wittily captured by Carrie Fisher. (Yes, that Carrie Fisher.)

Painting: Young Man and the Sea by Hippolyte Flandarin