Dürer – Mathematiker und Künstler

Wie lassen sich Kunst und Mathematik vereinen? Wenn wie bei Albrecht Dürer der kreative Geist des Künstlers und der logische  Verstand des Mathematiker hier und da im Laufe der Kunstgeschichte zusammen fanden, entstanden großartige Kunstwerke.

Albrecht Dürer, der Druckgrafiker der deutschen Renaissance, leistete mit der Veröffentlichung verschiedener Werke zu mathematischen Prinzipien, zur Perspektive oder auch zu idealen Proportionen einen entscheidenen Beitrag zur Mathematik. Zur selben Zeit wie die Universaltalente Leonardo da Vinci und Piero della Francesca hat auch Dürer Kunst und Mathematik erfolgreich miteinander verbunden und gelangte  so zu einer „ultimative Wahrheit”. Sein Kupferstich Melencolia I (1514) ist dafür  ein unumstrittenes Beispiel:



Gelehrte haben Jahrhunderte damit verbracht, den „Rhomboederstumpf” in der linken Bildhälfte auf seine mathematische Genauigkeit hin zu analysieren, um ihn letzendlich als exakte geometrische Wiedergabe anerkennen zu müssen. Aufgrund aller die Winkel und Seitenverhältnisse betreffenden Kalkulationen, eigentlich Thema einer mathematischen Erörterung, wird die komplexe Geometrie hier zum Gegenstand künstlerischer Auseinandersetzung.

Was inspirierte diese wissenschaftliche Kunst oder künstlerische Wissenschaft? Bei allen aus der Verschmelzung von Künstler und Mathematiker hervorgegangen Werken trägt die Mathematik offenbar zur Verschönerung der Kunst bei. Bereits bei den alten Ägyptern beispielsweise galt beim Bau ihrer Pyramiden der „Goldene Schnitt”  als „ästhetisch ansprechend”.

Aber muss schöne Kunst auch immer mathematisch korrekt sein?

Lernen Sie Dürer und eine Reihe anderer europäischer Künstler in der Ausstellung Dürer and Beyond: Central European Drawings 1400-1700 im New Yorker Metropolitan Museum of Art noch bis zum 3. September 2012 kennen. Als Einstimmung können Sie die großartigen Werke Dürers in diesem reich bebilderten und qualitativ hochwertigen Kunstbuch genießen.

Contre le bien-pensant...

Villon, Pasolini, Courier ou Le Caravage... Un poète francais du Moyen Âge, un cinéaste italien des années 60 / 70, un écrivain français à cheval entre xix^e et xx^e siècle et un peintre italien du xvi^e siècle... Cherchez les points communs !

A priori pas grand chose, et pourtant... : Villon Pape des artistes maudits, assassin à ses heures et poète-bagarreur, Pasolini filmant la chair avec délices et tué sur une plage, Courier le séducteur-soldat, brillant helléniste et assassin assassiné et enfin Le Caravage, enfant-maudit de l’Histoire de l’art, mort d’épuisement et peintre de la chair et du désir...

Vous l’aurez compris, la subversion est ici le maître-mot. Ceux qui pensaient que c’était le xx^e siècle qui avait inventé l’anti-conformisme, qu’ils lisent –entre autres- les écrits de Villon ou de Courier, qu’ils regardent les toiles de Le Caravage et les films de Pasolini...

On considère souvent Le Caravage comme étant l’inventeur de l’éclairage cinématographique... Ci-dessous une capture d’écran de Teorema, film réalisé en 1968, et un détail de Judith et Holopherne, toile peinte en 1597-1600. Jugez-en par vous même...



« Et le Verbe s’est fait chair »... Entre un peintre mêlant de manière très subversive la religion et la sensualité (Saint-Jean Baptiste, peint vers 1600) et un cinéaste amoureux de l’excès et de la décadence (Teorema, Œdipe Roi, Le Décameron), difficile de trancher lequel des deux a le mieux illustré cette phrase extraite de la Bible...



Bousculant la rigueur morale de leur époque, ces artistes sulfureux laissent leur désir et leur passion s’exprimer tant dans leur vie que dans leur œuvre.

Bosch : le Roi du Cartoon !

Ours à bec de canard pratiquant le patin à glace, hommes et femmes prisonniers d’un coquillage géant, démons recopiant des partitions musicales sur le corps des humains... Bienvenue dans le monde magique de Jérôme Bosch, un peintre hollandais né au xv^e siècle !


Si vous pensez que la peinture antérieure au xx^e siècle est poussiéreuse, partez à l’aventure dans les toiles de Jérôme Bosch ! Dans Le Jardin des Délices (1480-1505), poursuivez des poissons démesurés volant dans le ciel, évitez les monstres qui veulent vous faire entrer dans une cornemuse géante ou abritez-vous dans un œuf gigantesque... Vous croiserez des personnages drôles et des scènes fantasques et débridées, où le bizarre est roi et où tout est possible... Le Jardin des Délices, la toile dont vous êtes le héros !


Si vous êtes tenté par l’univers de la BD avant l’heure, pétri d’imaginaire, un brin provocateur et étonnament moderne, découvrez l’exposition Tracing Bosch and Bruegel. Four Paintings Magnified, à la National Gallery of Denmark, à Copenhague jusqu’au 21 octobre 2012. Si vous ne pouvez pas y aller mais souhaitez d’autres informations sur Bosch et son œuvre, consultez notre ebook et ses magnifiques illustrations !

Découvrir l’œuvre de Bosch, c’est comme jouer aux Playmobils... du xv^e siècle !

Hieronymus Bosch – ein religiöser Fanatiker?

Wenig ist bekannt über Hieronymus Bosch. Als niederländischer Maler im 15. Jahrhundert geboren, entstammt das Meiste, was wir heute über ihn wissen den gerade mal 25 ihm sicher zugeordneten Gemälden (eine Zahl, die mit den Jahren deutlich zurückgegangen ist).

Durch die Verwendung von Diptychons und Triptychons gelang es Bosch die Erwartungshaltung seiner Betrachter sofort auf eine religiöse Thematik zu lenken.

Zu seinen berühmtesten Werken gehört Der Garten der Lüste (um 1480-1505) – aber war Bosch wirklich ein so strenger Christ, wie es dieses Gemälde vermuten lässt?



Auf den ersten Blick, man kann es dem Betrachter nicht verübeln, wirkt die Szene als entstamme sie einem wirklich skurrilen Kindermärchen. Erst bei näherer Betrachtung offenbaren sich die komplexen himmlischen und höllischen Details, die zugleich Entzückung als auch Verzweiflung ausdrücken.

Das Thema des Werkes? Die Geschichte des Sündenfalls: Auf der linken Tafel (der Anfang der Geschichte) führt Gott Adam und Eva im Garten Eden zusammen. Der große Mittelteil zeigt eine einzige wilde Orgie – Menschen bedienen sich ihres freien Willens auf der Suche nach dem ultimativen Genuss. Die rechte Tafel veranschaulicht die Qualen in den Tiefen der Hölle: Als Folge der menschlichen Sündentaten wütet hier Gottes furchtbarer Zorn (heraufbeschworen bereits am Anfang durch die „böse“ Eva).

Manche Wissenschaftler stimmen mit der Ansicht nicht überein, dass Bosch ein religiöser Fanatiker war, die zarte Farbgebung und die Schönheit der Szenerie, lassen ihrer Meinung nach die These unmöglich erscheinen, dass Bosch seine Figuren als Sünder darstellen wollte.

Noch umstrittener ist jedoch sein Einsatz von "haarigen" Figuren (Figuren mit einem braunen Fell) im mittleren Bereich, der nicht selten als ein beabsichtigter Hinweis auf Boschs ketzerische Sichtweise der Evolution interpretiert wurde. Einige Kunsthistoriker wiederum sehen in den harrigen Figuren einfach nur eine gedachte Alternative zu unserem zivilisierten Leben.

Welche Ansicht mag wohl eher der Intention Boschs entsprechen?



Erforschen Sie die Geheimnisse von Bosch und anderen Künstlern in der Ausstellung Tracing Bosch and Bruegel. Four Paintings Magnified , die bis zum 21. Oktober 2012 in der National Gallery in Kopenhagen gezeigt wird. Nähere Informationen zu Bosch und seiner Kunst, finden Sie auch in dem aufwändig illustrierten neu erschienenen Bosch-Ebook.

Dürer: the Mathematical Artist

I have long considered the artist and the mathematician to be incompatible specimens; geeks and creatives; oil and water. But artists such as Dürer, accomplished in both art and mathematics, certainly make a good case against my point of view.

German Renaissance printmaker Albrecht Dürer made significant contributions to mathematics in literature, publishing works about the principles of mathematics, perspective and ideal proportions. He succeeded at a time when other great thinkers, including polymaths Leonardo da Vinci and Piero della Francesca were thinking in new ways, combining art with mathematics as a way of expressing an ‘ultimate truth’. Nothing conveys Dürer’s capacity for combining the two like his famous engraving Melancholia I (1514):



Scholars have spent centuries analysing the truncated ‘rhombohedron’ (a kind of leaning cube shape) on the left of the image, as the exact geometry of the solid depicted is a subject of some academic debate (all of which involve ratio and angle calculations – not the typical ponderings of an arty type). ‘Dürer’s Solid’, as it is now known, is now part of a larger mathematical theory called the ‘Dürer Graph’ – his mathematical influence remains rife today.

Whatever inspired the creation this scientific art (or artistic science)? It seems the general feeling amongst the artist/mathematician hybrids is that mathematics makes art more beautiful.  The ‘Golden Ratio’ for example, applied by the Ancient Egyptians for the building of the pyramids, was regarded as being ‘aesthetically pleasing’.

Does mathematics really enhance art? The jury is still out.

Get to know Dürer and a wealth of other European artists in Dürer and Beyond: Central European Drawings 1400-1700 at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, exhibiting until the 3^rd September 2012. Alternatively, treat yourself to Dürer's most influential works with this beautifully illustrated high-quality art book.

Bosch and his Moral High Horse

Little is known about Hieronymus Bosch. A Dutch painter born in the 15^th century, the most we know about him is gleaned from the mere 25 paintings that are definitively attributed to him (a number significantly whittled down over the years).

Using triptychs and diptychs, Bosch was able to conduct religious narratives through his art. Among his most famous is The Garden of Earthly Delights (c. 1480-1505) – was Bosch really as stern a Christian as demonstrated in this painting?



At first glance, you’d be forgiven for thinking the scene is a whimsical child’s fairytale. But closer inspection reveals the heavenly and hellish intricate details, embodying both ecstasy and despair.

To me, this is a warning from Bosch’s moral high horse. The story of the Fall of Man. On the left panel (the start of the story), God is bringing together Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The large middle piece shows an orgy of indulgence – humanity acting with free will, engaging in ultimate pleasures. The right reveals the misery of the depths of hell – the consequences of man’s sin: God’s awesome wrath (prompted of course at the start, by Evil Eve).

Some scholars disagree that Bosch was a religious zealot, claiming instead that the tender colours he uses and the beauty of the scene means he can’t possibly have deemed them as sinners.  More controversially, it has even been pointed out that his use of ‘hairy’ figures (figures coated in a layer of brown fur) in the middle panel could be indicative of his heretical view of evolution.  Some art historians argue they are simply an imagined alternative to our civilised life. What do you think?



Explore the mysteries of Bosch along with other artists at the Tracing Bosch and Bruegel. Four Paintings Magnified exhibition, showing at the National Gallery of Denmark in Copenhagen until 21^st October 2012. If you can’t make the exhibition, but want some more information about Bosch and his art, find all you want and more in this lavishly-illustrated Bosch ebook.

Caravaggio und Pasolini: Verwandte Seelen

Als bedeutende Unruhestifter ihrer Zeit werden der italienische Filmregisseur Pier Paolo Pasolini und der italienische Maler Caravaggio, sowohl in persönlicher als auch in beruflicher Hinsicht häufig miteinander verglichen. Aber was genau rechtfertigt einen solchen Vergleich?

Caravaggios Kunst besticht durch ihr außergewöhnliches Lichtkonzept: einem Scheinwerfer gleich werden dramatische Hell-Dunkel-Kontraste erzeugt, die die Figuren, ihre Mimik und Gestik lebendig wirken lassen und jedes noch so intime Makel offenbaren. Durch seine Lichteffekte besitzen seine Gemälde eine für damalige Verhältnisse nahezu erschreckende Lebensähnlichkeit. Pasolini, wegen seiner extremen politischen Ansichten zu seinen Lebzeiten ebenso missverstanden, produzierte einige der schockierendsten Filme des 20. Jahrhunderts.

Revolutionär, homosexuell und durchaus gewillt Aufmerksamkeit zu erregen – die unheimliche Ähnlichkeit ihrer Herkunft (die bei beiden größtenteils auf Vermutungen basiert) beeinflusste vermutlich ihre düster wirkenden Szenen und die starke, provokative Ausprägung ihrer Arbeiten, auf die mit genauso viel Verachtung reagiert wurde.

Ein Vergleich von Caravaggios Kunst (als Kunst im engeren Sinn) und den Filmen Pasolinis, liefert durchaus mehrdeutige Interpretationen, die typische dramatische Beleuchtung beider Künstler ist jedoch ein unbestreitbarer gemeinsamer Nenner, was die Gegenüberstellung des Screenshots von Pasolinis Film Teorema (1968), links, und Caravaggios Meisterwerk Judith und Holofernes (1597 - 1600), rechts, exemplarisch verdeutlicht:

Caravaggio und Pasolini genossen es, sich mit denen zu umgeben, die aus der Gesellschaft ausgeschlossen wurden und wählten gerade sie oft als Modelle für ihre Arbeiten aus. Anders als seine Zeitgenossen und für die Zeit undenkbar, nutzte Caravaggio regelmäßig ‚gewöhnliche‘ Menschen als historische, religiöse oder wohlhabende Figuren, so zum Beispiel bei seinem Gemälde Schlafender Amor (1608), das einen kleinen schlafenden Jungen ausgestattet mit den typischen Attributen des Amors zeigt (siehe unten).

Auch Pasolini bevorzugte arme und dadurch authentische Darsteller aus den ländlichen Teilen Italiens, um die ländlichen Dialekte, statt den Mainstream der italienische Sprache, in seine Filme einzubinden.



Die, von Pasolini und Caravaggio verwendeten Techniken, beleuchten eine dunkle Seite der Menschheit, eine reale, drastische Seite, dessen Darstellung ganz und gar nicht der gängigen Kulturauffassung ihrer Zeit entsprach. Die Künstler, obwohl 300 Jahre voneinander getrennt, teilten offenbar ein sehr ähnliches Verständnis des menschlichen Daseins.

The Self-Indulgence of the Self-Portrait

The self-portrait: an frank insight into the soul of an artist or a web of lies?

Self-Portraits are the epicentre of the Metropolitan Museum's current exhibition: ‘Rembrandt and Degas: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’, presenting early self-portraits by the artists side by side for the first time. Featured below: left, Rembrandt van Rijn, Sheet of Studies with Self-Portrait (detail), 1630-1634 and right, Edgar Degas, Self-Portrait (detail), c. 1855-1857:



With the mass production of improved glass mirrors, the Early Renaissance in the mid-15^th century saw a wave of self-portraits amongst painters, sculptors, and printmakers alike. A range of self-depictions were produced, from the humble sketch to extravagant biblical scenes, featuring, you guessed it, themselves. Francisco de Zurbarán’s 17^th century painting Saint Luke as a Painter before Christ on the Cross is widely believed to picture himself as St Luke:



It is said that self-portraiture requires a great deal of artistic skill and self-awareness, while exposing one’s own vulnerabilities as both an artist and subject. But how accurate were these self-portraits?

I don’t claim any validity in comparing such a practice in the 15^th century to today – photography means there is less need to spend months and years nurturing pictorial evidence of one’s own appearance for the sake of PR.

But producing such work in the 21^st century would likely bring about accusations of self-obsession or even criticism for stretching the truth of our own good looks – was this really much different in the 15^th century? The temptation to adjust the odd flaw must remain rife in such a practice – a slightly smaller nose or an eradicated mole can be yours at the mere flick of a brush.

Art critics have noted that a trait common to female self-portraits is that they are featured in much smarter attire than they would probably actually be painting in, perhaps indicating some deviance from the mirror image they saw before them. For example, this is a self-portrait by Adelaide Labille-Guiard, Self-Portrait with Two Pupils 1785 – would you want to splash your watercolours on that finery?



Self-portraits also range to the rather more controversial, such as those of Egon Schiele’s collection of self-depictions, which have led to countless medical diagnoses of his mental and sexual health. By this measure, self-portraits are more than paintings; they also provide insight into the artists themselves.

However, reminiscent of the Facebook profile picture (blasphemous!), self-portraits are, and have always been, what the artist wants us to see of them.  This is what they would like us to perceive of their personality and character, which by human nature is likely to differ from who they actually were.

Self-portraits provide a fascinating angle on a work of art.  We can undoubtedly take a lot more from a self-portrait than we can from one man’s portrait of another, but can we really believe what they convey?

For more information about the exhibition, please visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art's website.  For  high quality ebooks about Schiele, Degas and a host of other legendary artists, visit ebook-gallery.com.

Caravaggio and Pasolini: Kindred Spirits

Significant troublemakers of their time, Italian film director Pier Paolo Pasolini is frequently likened to Italian painter Caravaggio, both personally and professionally. Why and how are the artists so similar?

Caravaggio’s fine art is accredited with the invention of cinematic lighting – the dramatic contrast of dark and light, the minute detail of the human figure and the intimate reveal of every quirk and blemish feature in all of his pieces.  His work is surely the closest we can get to looking at a photograph of the 16^th century. Pasolini, equally misunderstood in his lifetime because of his extreme political views, produced some of the most shocking films of the 20^th century.

Revolutionary, homosexual and willing to cause a stir, the eerie likeness of their backgrounds (which both remain matters of conjecture) perhaps influenced the similarly dark, stark direction of their work, which typically oozed with as much disdain as it did provocation.

While comparisons between fine art and film can be ambiguous, the dramatic lighting both artists regularly adopted is an undeniable common denominator, as can be seen in a screenshot of Pasolini’s film Teorema (1968), left, and Caravaggio’s masterpiece Judith and Holofernes (1597 - 1600), right:



Caravaggio and Pasolini tended to enjoy the company of the outcasts of society, who they used as models for their work. Unlike his contemporaries, Caravaggio often used ‘common’ people as historic, religious, and wealthy figures, such as Sleeping Cupid (1608), in which a sleeping child is depicted as Cupid (below). Pasolini, similarly, embraced the poor and honest characters from rural Italy, often choosing to use country dialects in his films, rather than mainstream Italian language:



The techniques employed by Pasolini and Caravaggio shed light on a darker side of humanity, one that is real, graphic and well out of range of the popular culture of their times.  The artists, three hundred years apart, have evidently reached a mutual understanding of the human condition.

Immortality Inspired Art

Immortality: the notion that one lives on past this life, thus helping us mere mortals digest the fear and grief brought on by death. Heavy investments of inestimable wealth into the unwavering belief that the afterlife exists has produced hugely lavish art, including majestic sculptures, tombs and precious artifacts.

The Han Dynasty, China’s second imperial family as of 206 BCE, was one such group of believers. The enormous wealth that awaited family members upon their passing would surely make one relish the chance to expire. Intricate burial chambers, kitchens, concubines and rooms crammed with the most precious of gems were just the tip of the iceberg, with reports of sacrificing the servants of certain VIPs to ensure they weren’t left alone in the afterlife. (Let’s hope you read the small-print of that employment contract).

Practices such as coating the body in jade was a technique used for the prevention of ‘demon’ attacks (i.e. the natural decomposition) and has left us with some stunning art.  This jade suit, from 2^nd century BCE, is from the tomb at Xuzhou and consists of 4000 jade pieces:



In today’s society, as I remain caged within the confines of what is arguably new-age greed, insolence and skepticism, my initial thought was “what a waste”. Those jade pieces (as well as the rest of the gold, silver, bronze, elephant tusks and ceramics accompanying the corpse) would surely better serve someone still living.  Considering belief in the afterlife was a spiritual matter, did it really concern the physical body to this expensive extent?

Of course, it’s easy to mock the conventional sentiments of the past from our perch at the peak of scientific knowledge, but, on second thought, perhaps we aren’t so different.  Would we be comfortable burying our relatives without a funeral?  Maybe, like us, the ‘no expense spared’ mantra we apply to the newly deceased is really more for the comfort of the living, who can revel in the knowledge that their loved one is enjoying the lap of luxury somewhere.

Preparing for immortality: superstitious mumbo-jumbo or money well spent?

If you want to learn more the ancient Chinese tombs, visit The Search for Immortality: Tomb Treasures of Han China exhibition at the Fitzwilliam Museum, London.  Entry is free.  Alternatively, pick up our Chinese Porcelain ebook, for some further insight into Chinese artist heritage.

Hopper and his Hype

Edward Hopper: legendary painter, influential realist, and an inspiration to many. A master, if you will. But does his mass-market appeal from the non-artistic world throw doubt over his simple yet stark style? Should we really buy in to the hype?

Personally, I do believe the hype, I only wish there was less of it. The popularity of Hopper’s work extends far beyond the world of fine art – many directors have used Hopper’s vision, creation, and use of light as a feature in their motion pictures. One such example is Hopper’s House by the Railroad (1925):

This idea is said to have featured in both Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), as well as in the Terrence Malick film Days of Heaven (1978). The resemblance between the above painting and the houses featured in the two films is certainly uncanny:

Another Hopper piece to have become hugely commercial is Nighthawks (1942), which features a couple seated at a late-night diner:



This atmospheric piece has inspired and been cited by countless movies, including Hard Candy, Blade Runner, Deep Red, and see below for a recreation of the scene in Herbert Ross’ depression-era film, Pennies From Heaven (1981). Apart from the obvious physical similarities of the scene, is there really any comparison?  It is my opinion that the painting offers us true insight to a scene, complete with sounds, smells and feelings, which the movie snapshot is simply unable to provide. Perhaps art should remain art and not be muddied by the desperate attempts of cinemographers to create their own reproductions:



You’d be wrong in thinking the influence of Hopper’s work stops in Hollywood – this particular picture has also inspired comic books, such as "Hopper's" diner in Batman: Year One and television shows such as That ‘70s Show have formed their own recreations. Cartoons, such as The Simpsons; video games such as The Sims; novels such as Chris Bell’s 2004 novel Liquidambar; newspapers; Japanese animation and magazines have all similarly employed the painting’s influence. In fact, little media has been left untouched by the piece - there’s something for everyone!

But I think the most peculiar is the translation of the painting from a visual standpoint into the medium of music. In 1993, Madonna embarked upon the Girlie Show tour, supposedly theatrically and musically inspired by the mood of Hopper’s 1941 piece of the same name. Canadian rock band The Weakerthans, British guitarist John Squire, and Polish composer Paweł Szymański are amongst the countless other musicians to have fallen for the mysterious charms of the interpretive storytelling of Hopper’s art.  This form of influence I buy into least of all, mainly because we all interpret art differently, so to liken one’s creative ideas to that of a great artist could be considered presumptuous.

This magnitude of influence does reflect well on Hopper, and the fact his ideas can transcend from painting to such a wide range of other formats and eras is surely homage to his unrivalled ability to turn a simple scene into something of beauty and intrigue seen only in his unique and unwavering style. His pieces evidently provide as much inspiration today as they did in the 20^th century.

But commercialism (or ‘excessive influence’) is a vicious thing, which Hopper himself never foresaw – why are we not content with appreciating Hopper’s art for what it is?

Visit the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum’s Hopper Exhibition, which continues until 16 September 2012, for a close-up of Hopper’s work. Alternatively, take his art home with you with his lavishly-illustrated ebook.