Can (and should) life truly imitate Art?

At first glance I thought this exhibition was about something else entirely – bodies covered in tattoos (to which I am entirely approving). But now that I am well informed, I’ve got some things to say. Are photographs art? Sure, sometimes, certainly not all the time, just have a look at my memory card. But are they Art, capital A, meant to be scrutinised, reviewed, and studied for centuries to come? I’m not so sure.


(I’d rather see the Maja nude than, say, Kim Kardashian)
Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, The Nude Maja, 1797-1800.
Oil on canvas, 98 x 191 cm.
Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid.

Painting is an expression of one’s mind, heart, and imagination. The colours we interpret, the way things make us feel, whatever happens to be going through our heads at a particular moment in time. Paintings are created by hand and, arguably, soul. Photographs, on the other hand, are, while surely manipulated by a human force, created by machine. And so, does this pave a path for us to compare Delacroix’s images of rape and murder in Death of Sardanapalus to a photograph of a seemingly “broken” woman strewn across a bed (Tom Hunter’s Death of Coltelli)? I would say not.


(Even I would model for Degas!)
Edgar Degas, Woman with a Towel, 1894 or 1898.
Pastel on cream-coloured wove paper with red and blue fibres throughout, 95.9 x 76.2 cm.
H.O. Havemeyer Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A painting allows for the deepest expression of whatever feeling the artist wishes to convey. He can make a woman look desperate and torn apart, he can make a man look smug and in control (both references to Sardanapalus); he can make a troublesome child appear angelic and shade the curves of a woman just so to make her appear sensual rather than vulgar. A photographer can only hope to have such a good model to portray the image inside his mind, and even then, we know they’re just pretending – because, in all honesty, what cruel being would take a photo of someone that has been raped, murdered, or committed suicide and call it Art?


(If you are going to photograph a nude, I’d prefer classy, not – uncomfortable.)
Julian Mandel, Early postcard of Kiki de Montparnasse, c. 1925.
14 x 9 cm.

I simply do not believe that a photograph, while worth 1000 words, has the chops to stand next to the great Masterpieces. Visit The National Gallery, London now through 20 Jan to see Seduced by Art. Let us know if you believe the Old Master’s can possibly be compared, side by side, to photographic imitations. Whether you have a penchant for photographs or painted landscapes, you’re covered: Erotic Photography by Klaus H. Carl, Still Life by Victoria Charles, Nudes by Jp. A. Calosse, Landscapes by Émile Michel.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Love and Passion in Their Time and Place

What is your least favourite thing about Facebook – the most popular social networking tool in existence? I would have to say, just barely beating the 12 engagements a week which are really just a reminder of how lonely I might be someday, it is undoubtedly the mushy, gushy, self-taken photos of a lip-locked couple. That’s nice, I’m happy for you, but do you really need to plaster it all over my newsfeed?

But when did a couple in love start to produce this shuttering, nearly vomit inducing feeling? Certainly artists from the 15^th century and beyond were able to find beauty and romance in such imagery. How many of us have fawned over Rodin’s Eternal Idol (1889), Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss (1787-1793), and basically any reproduction of Paolo and Francesca (I’m so glad those two crazy kids got together even if their tryst put them in Dante’s second circle of Hell)?


Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, 1867.
Watercolour, gouache, and gum Arabic over pencil on two sheets of paper, 43.7 x 36.1 cm.
National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.

Looking at Rosetti’s Paolo and Francesca, I am both happy and nervous for them. I know Gianciotto is just waiting to catch them and that their lives will be cut short. But I feel the passion of their stolen kiss, the desire in their intertwined hands.


Francesco Hayez, The Kiss, 1859.
Oil on canvas, 110 x 88 cm.
Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

This Risorgimento patriot says goodbye to his wife before going to war, they cannot be sure to see each other again. I want to look away, not because it makes me sick, but because I feel as though I’m intruding on a beautiful, tender moment shared between lovers.

Head over to the Nationalmuseum’s exhibition of Passions – Five Centuries of Art and the Emotions, on through 12 Aug 2012, to see romance at its best. And while you’re at it, pick up Love so the next time you feel the need to display your affection publicly you can first make sure it lives up to the standards of the greatest love imagery there is.

 

If physical passion is more your forte, check out these titles: The Encyclopaedia of Erotica, Erotic Fantasy, and In Praise of the Backside – all guaranteed to stir your imagination and tickle fancy.

-Le Lorrain Andrews