If it ain't Baroque, fix it!

Bear with me here. The Baroque movement is a combination of beauty and grotesque; high drama with intense focus on every element. It started under the influence of the Roman Catholic Church in Italy during the 1600s. A century later, during the late 1720s in France, Rococo was invented – was this a backhanded attempt at a war between the Romance languages and arts?

Meant to create imagery for those unable to read, Baroque set out to be a symbol of unity among the masses. In light of the most recent events in the US, a country that claims to want unity while ceaselessly coming up short, I can’t help but connect the two concepts. Actually, I probably very well could and should help it, but where’s the fun in that?


Peter Paul Rubens, The Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus, 1617/1618.
Oil on canvas, 224 x 210.5 cm.
Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

In my experience and observation of many citizens of the United States, Baroque is the furthest comparable movement to the way politics are viewed in this large and (once) globally influential country. The atmosphere is more in line with the Rococo style – flowery, jocular, and exhibiting blind faith in what comes out of the talking heads’ mouths. A citizen deeply entrenched in the Baroque-ness of the political scene knows each argument, from all sides, down to the most minute details. This citizen can make informed and intellectual decisions that may ultimately affect his/her whole country and the future.


Guido Reni, The Massacre of the Innocents, 1611/1612.
Oil on canvas, 268 x 170 cm.
Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna, Bologna.

The “Rococoans” (self-invented), those that follow the crowd and do as they are told – whether it’s their televisions, parents, friends, or spouses – are at a great risk of being forgotten, much in the same way that I feel the artistic movement hardly existed despite its strong push to overtake Baroque. Trying to make everyone happy for the sake of happiness is not the answer; to quote my favourite comedian: “Everything is amazing and nobody is happy.” (Louis C.K.)

Interestingly, Baroque is actually considered to be politically focused – grandiose, symmetrical, and strictly regulated. And I’ve said all of this to say: pay attention to the details, in art, in politics, in life. Ready? Go!

It’s easy to get lost in the details of life, but try and avoid that here – enjoy them, but also take a step back and see the whole image. Visit the Art Gallery of Alberta now through 6 January 2013 to see modern (and probably not political) Baroque art at its best: Misled by Nature: Contemporary Art and the Baroque. Don’t forget to appreciate the origins of Baroque in this colourfully illustrated ebook:Baroque Art by Victoria Charles and Klaus H. Carl.

 

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Avec ou sans Formes ?

Un corps parfait. C’est ce que prône la mode du XXIᵉ siècle. À l’époque où la maigreur est de mise, où le naturel tend à disparaître au profit du superficiel, où, à en observer les magazines et les mentalités, seules les femmes très minces sont considérées comme « belles », que penser des célèbres nus de Rubens ? Ces nus bien en chair, voluptueux, aux formes généreuses, ces corps d’une blancheur extrême mais surtout d’une sensualité sans précédent que le maître du Baroque prenait plaisir à réaliser ?

Une adolescente penserait probablement  des Trois Grâces qu’elles sont : «  grasses ». Personnellement,  je pense que Rubens, par son talent et sa façon de peindre, a le don de nous réconcilier avec les formes, tant ses nus sont sensuels voire érotiques.

Le cadre idyllique, la lumière, les couleurs et le voile transparent ne font qu’accentuer cette sensualité hors du commun. Ces trois divinités ne sont que poésie et séduction.

Il est évident que ces nus choquèrent à l’époque, mais Rubens s’en souciait peu et considérait la représentation du corps humain comme naturelle.


Pierre Paul Rubens, Les Trois Grâces, 1639,
181 x 221 cm, Huile sur bois, Museo del Prado, Madrid

 


Pierre Paul Rubens, Vénus au miroir, 1616.

 

Les choses en sont autrement aujourd’hui, et justement, si Rubens vivait à notre époque,  réaliserait-il toujours des nus aussi voluptueux ? Ou bien se plierait-il aux canons de beauté actuels en représentant trois « Grâces » nues et très minces ?  Le résultat semble aussi ironique que difficile à imaginer, même si, à l’époque de Photoshop tout reste envisageable. C’est exactement ce qu’a fait l’artiste italienne Anna Utopia Giordano, qui a choisi de détourner avec ce même logiciel les Vénus les plus connues, selon les canons actuels. Le résultat en est surprenant.


Botticelli, La Naissance de Vénus, 1484.                          Anna Utopia Giordano, La Naissance de Vénus

Il n’appartient maintenant qu’à vous d’imaginer à quoi pourraient ressembler les œuvres de Rubens retouchées de cette manière et d’en  juger quel serait le corps parfait : avec ou sans formes ?

Pour  admirer les œuvres de Rubens vous pouvez vous rendre au Von der Heydt-Museum de Wupperta en Allemagne du 16 octobre 2012 au 28 février 2013 ou bien consulter le livre intitulé Peter Paul Rubens écrit par Victoria Charles et édité par Parkstone.

Bernini: The Beauty and The Beast

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Fontana della Barcaccia. c. 1623. Marble. Piazza di Spagna, Rome, Italy

Rome is the city of light, certainly, but it is also the city of water. Tourists may visit for the city’s celebrated history and architecture, but they leave entranced by the babbling fountains which dot the city like stars. What most don’t realize is that most of those fountains were designed by the same man: the astoundingly talented Gian Lorenzo Bernini.

Immortalized in countless great works of cinema, from Frederico Felini’s La Dolce Vita to Woody Allen’s To Rome With Love, Bernini’s fountains are essential to the character of this most romantic of cities. His Fontana della Barcaccia on the Spanish Steps even provided the backdrop for Gregory Peck and Audry Hepburn to meet cute in Roman Holiday, and has been photographed by countless tourists attempting capture a uniquely Italian image. In many ways, modern Rome is the city Bernini built.

Still, as influential as he is today, Bernini’s path to artistic immortality was not smooth. In the seventeenth century when he was a young man he was quite a controversial figure, his artistic genius at times overshadowed by the scandals that surrounded him.


Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Self-Portrait as a Young Man. c. 1623. Oil on canvas, 62x46 cm. Galleria Borghese, Rome, Italy

Bernini was the darling of the art world from the age of eight, when Pope Paul V boasted that the child would be “The Michelangelo of his century.” And as he grew up, and his skills increased, so did his social success. Beloved by the wealthiest families in Italy, and a favourite of the church, Bernini led a charmed life. At least, until he met Constanza Buanerelli.

Constanza was the wife of Bernini’s assistant Matteo, a young and lovely woman whose freshness and charm immediately won over the artist. He was inspired by her sensuality, and she quickly became his muse, her post-coital rumple immortalized in stone in one of his most celebrated busts.


Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Bust of Constanza Buonarelli. c. 1635. Marble, 72 cm. Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, Italy

Alas, their happiness was brief. Bernini was an extremely jealous lover, infuriated that he was forced to share Constanza with her husband. He repeatedly insulted the hapless Matteo to such a great extent that his affair with Constanza became a matter of common knowledge, and she was jailed for adultery. Protected by his powerful friends, Bernini himself got off scot free.

Constanza, tired of her lover’s covetousness, took her revenge by beginning an affair with his brother. Enraged, Bernini followed the pair to the steps of St. Peter’s basilica, the Pope’s seat of power, whose interior he had so masterfully designed years before. He beat his brother half to death with an iron rod, and bribed a servant to slash Constanza’s face with a razor, destroying the beauty that had once captivated him.

Pope Urban VIII used his power to get Bernini out of trouble, even excusing the 3000 scudi fee the court leveled against him. But the pope was tired of helping the bad boy artist out of romantic scrapes, and this time his help came with a price. He forced Bernini to marry a virtuous woman of the church’s choosing, a union that was by all accounts a happy one, lasting decades and producing eleven children.

Still, Bernini never sculpted his wife. Maybe he had learned his lesson with Constanza, his great love and his muse, whose faithless beauty he so fatally immortalized.

Those of you lucky enough to be in New York should make sure to check out Bernini: Sculpting in Clay at the world famous Metropolitan Museum of Art from October 3, 2012 to January 6, 2013. Or to follow along at home, and get critical insight into Bernini’s controversial life and work, check out our ebooks on Sculpture and Baroque Art, both written by celebrated art historian Victoria Charles.

-George Kostrowitzky

Photoshopping and Photobombing...Peter Paul Rubens-Style!

When I open any magazine these days, I look at the photos of waif-like women with perfect skin, hair and teeth, without a jot of cellulite to be seen, and it’s what I expect to see.  I admit it!  The world of mass media has done its work very well indeed.  There is perhaps a handful of women who may be naturally blessed with the genetic make-up to look as flawless as those pictured on billboards without the help of Photoshop.   And that’s just it; technology such as Photoshop gives me expectations.  If I were to see an ad with the models remaining unaltered, I would be surprised.  It’s human nature.  To want to look better than we actually do, to make something or someone seem perfect and – with the right product or right clothing – to attract others to the same level of perfection.   And then it struck me, this is not a new concept.  When I look back at artists from the Renaissance and Baroque period, they do exactly the same thing.  (With paintbrush and easel instead of computer and mouse.)


Peter Paul Rubens, Portrait of Susanna Lunden (?) (‘Le Chapeau de Paille’), probably 1622-1625. Oil on wood, 79 x 54.6 cm. The National Gallery, London.

Take a look at some of Peter Paul Rubens’ work.  Although the curvier female form was highly admired and painted as it was – childbearing hips and all – Rubens still goes on to use the power invested in him as an artist to present the world with an interpretation of the model and the setting, rather than the real thing (or so I presume, having not been present at the actual time of painting.)  In the painting of Susanna Lunden, thought to be a marriage portrait, Rubens’ use of clear and stormy skies to create light and shadow is a way to illuminate the face and much of the upper torso.  In other words, she is glowing!  Now, if that isn’t a tactic to make someone look more presentable, I don’t know what is!


Perseus and Andromeda. Early 1620s, oil on canvas, 99.5 x 139 cm, The Hermitage, St. Petersburg.

During this thought process, my brain suddenly went into overdrive, and I began seeing links with modern culture everywhere in Rubens’ paintings.  One notable comparison that my oh-so-logical self came up with is the popular past-time of photobombing.  You know, you take a picture and when you look back at it, you notice that there’s an unusual face or activity happening in the background?  Well, I don’t know about you, but I see a big photobomb in Rubens’ Perseus and Andromeda.  My suspicions that Rubens had a sense of humour in his painting were confirmed by this painting.  At first glance it looks like a romantic, serious painting.  Okay, now look at the shield Perseus is carrying.  Look at the expression on Medusa’s face!  You heard it here first, Rubens was a photobomb master!  (Or should that be paintingbomb?)

If you happen to be in Germany before the end of February and would like to check out more of Rubens’ works, or simply make up your own mind whether he was a paintingbomb genius, head over to the Von der Heydt-Museum Wuppertal.  The Rubens exhibition will be held between the 16^th October 2012 and the 28^th February2013.  Alternatively, if going to Germany just isn’t possible right now, check out our book on Rubens written by Victoria Charles.

-Fiona Torsch

Rubens, Making Women Look Good Since 1698

Though Peter Paul Rubens’ impressive works are around 400 years old, I still find comfort in his representations of the female body. They are round, plush, and beautiful. Ruben’s women make me feel more comfortable in my own skin, regardless of my weight or how many dimples are on my thighs – okay, that’s not entirely true, I have a mini-breakdown any time I discover one and try chalking it up more to the fact that I’m getting older and less that I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in at least four years*.


Peter Paul Rubens, Venus in front of the Mirror, 1614/1615.
Oil on panel, 123 x 98 cm.
The Princely Collections, Lichtenstein.

What is going on in our society where models and actresses are all thinner than thin, so thin, in fact, I’d guess if a muscular or Big Handsome Man (BHM), were to place a hand on their shoulder they’d break in half! Personally, I’d rather look more like Adele, America Ferrera, or the OLD Emma Stone than Nicole Richie, Keira Knightly, or the NEW Emma Stone. Part of it is genes, of course, and one man’s poison is another man’s cure, but women whose genes would never allow them to be a size zero are killing themselves, literally, through diet (read: starvation) and over-exercise. I’m not a huge activist of exercise in the first place (clearly, based on my lack of gym membership), though I know (and advocate the fact that) it makes your heart healthier and your life longer. But, if we’re being honest here, I just don’t like to sweat.


Peter Paul Rubens, Venus in front of the Mirror, 1614/1615.
Oil on panel, 123 x 98 cm.
The Princely Collections, Lichtenstein.

A little Googling of “Rubenesque women” will yield some interesting results – try at your own risk and beware of those NSFW sites. Linking the term to Big Beautiful Women (BBW) – which actively encourages being overweight and obese – is taking it a bit too far. Ruben’s women weren’t overweight or obese, they were real women of real sizes of their time, with childbearing hips and capabilities – remember when that was important? You know, before 12-year-olds started having babies; HOW DO THEY DO IT!? – I digress.


Peter Paul Rubens, The Landing of Maria de’ Medici at Marseille, 3 November, 1600 (detail), 1622-1625.
Oil on canvas, 394 x 295 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

I’m not sure whether or not it’s too late for western societies, young girls especially, to get over busting their butts (no pun intended) to be waif-thin. Luckily for women everywhere, the beauty aesthetic changes with the times, so perhaps the next desired woman of said times will be able to just be who she is – beautiful at any size, confident, and intelligent. Because, really, isn’t it confidence that makes a person sexy?

Relish in the curves, bottoms, and bosoms of yesteryear at the Peter Paul Rubens exhibit in the Von Der Heydt-Museum, Wuppertal from 10.16.2012-28.02.2013. Also for your viewing pleasure, procure these colourful ebooks: Peter Paul Rubens and Baroque Art. Finally, ladies, feel free to say YES to your next piece of cake or pie and love the skin you’re in.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

*All joking and sarcasm aside, please do not take my lightness towards exercise seriously. Walk, swim, run, join a yoga or salsa class; hop, skip, or jump. Whatever you do, keep moving.