The Pond-Like Qualities of Frida and Diego

Diego Rivera
Retrato de la Señora Natasha Gelman (Portrait of Mrs Natasha Gelman), 1943.
Oil on canvas, 115 x 153 cm.
The Jacques and Natasha Gelman Collection of 20th Century Mexican Art.
The Vergel Foundation. Conaculta/INBA.
© 2013 Banco de México Diego Rivera Frida Kahlo Museums Trust, Mexico, D.F. / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.
Courtesy of The Nelson Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City.

Diego Rivera. Frida Kahlo. A new exhibition at the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art. It feels like old ground, and yet we (and, by we, I mean museums and galleries), keep on putting new exhibitions up, re-showing the same work over and over again. Isn’t this just a curriculum which we are repeating? A monopoly set where we never get to pass ‘GO’? A dream that we never seem to be able to wake up from?

No, actually it isn’t. What we can learn from Frida and Diego, and all other artists who are being exhibited (be it once, twice, or two thousand times), is that their work is important. And we can never truly glean everything we need to know about a painting by studying it once, twice, or even two thousand times.

Don’t just do something – sit there.

In theory yoga is this beautiful, wonderful, spiritual experience that is meant to cleanse mind, body, and soul. In practice yoga causes a slew of frowned upon words to come flying out of my mouth at record speeds. It is a deep, dark torture which we, as masochists, inflict upon ourselves day after day of shaking cores, trembling arms, and ready-to-collapse legs. We stretch ourselves in ways we never thought possible, only to discover they are possible, but will we be stuck this way forever?


“Son, if you don’t finish this portrait soon…”
Édouard Manet, Mr and Mrs Auguste Manet, 1860.
Oil on canvas, 110 x 90 cm.
Musée d'Orsay, Paris.

The idea of sitting still long enough to have my portrait painted makes my muscles ache in a way that I’ve only known through Downward-Facing Dog (the most bastardly position of all yoga forms). Though I have flirted with the idea of recreating the nude sofa scene in Titanic, I’m just not sure I could take the prolonged torture of not only remaining still, but also keeping my face from contorting or appearing as bored as I imagine I would feel. (Fun fact: Leonardo DiCaprio did NOT sketch Kate Winslet; those are James Cameron’s hands!)



Édouard Manet, Street Singer, c. 1862.
Oil on canvas, 171.1 x 105.8 cm.
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Without portrait painters and patient subjects, prior to the 1840s, we would have no idea what people of the past looked like. While, for some people, we are likely better being unaware of their looks (or odours) – considering the slow advancement in personal hygiene and photoshop – it would be more difficult to learn from the fashion faux pas of history.


Now, that’s a portrait I could easily pose for.
Édouard Manet, The Dead Toreador, probably 1864.
Oil on canvas, 75.9 x 153.3 cm.
Widener Collection, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

I certainly would not recommend being painted in Downward-Facing Dog; all of your blood would pool in your brain and you would assuredly die. See Manet: Portraying Life at the Royal Academy of Arts London from 26 Jan through 14 April for some postural suggestions concerning your next portrait painting. Also admire the intense richness of Édouard Manet’s many portraits in Manet by Nathalia Brodskaya.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Rubens ou l’émotion retrouvée

J’ai une tendresse particulière pour les femmes de Rubens. Elles sont confortables à l’œil, leur chair sans apprêt. Avec leurs seins lourds et leurs cuisses larges, elles nous donnent le sentiment de pouvoir accueillir l’humanité.

Pour une génération d’hommes confrontés aux formes d’une Twiggy (top modèle anglais des années 60), ou des tops modèles de la haute-couture, quelle divine surprise que les femmes puissent être autre que filiformes, grandes et sèches ! Voici quelques années, le magazine Elle faisait sa une avec Emmanuelle Béart. Même les féministes saluèrent cette nouvelle Vénus.

Ce fut pour beaucoup un choc ; le corps féminin pouvait aussi être fait de courbes douces, de sensualité délicate. Je ne dirais pas que les femmes de Rubens me conduisent au même sentiment, mais enfin après make-up, régime, anorexie, vive les joies de la chair.

Rubens nous offre des yeux et des lèvres qui vous disent : « j’ai aimé ». L’amour n’est pas seulement jouissance, il peut aussi être douleur. Les seins lourds et les cuisses larges des femmes de Rubens nous refont découvrir le mystère de la femme, leur peau lisse, leurs exhalaisons. L’amour a aussi une odeur, celle des essences intimes. Dans nos têtes viennent s’entrechoquer les mots perdus d’usage : téton, butiner, culbuter. « Auprès de sa blonde qu’il fait bon danser ». Et après la chanson, lutiner et aussi ravir nos sens. Ah quelle époque !

Le Von der Heydt-Museum à Wuppertal en Allemagne organise justement une grande exposition sur ce maître de la peinture flamande. Pour en savoir davantage sur Rubens et découvrir ses plus belles toiles, vous pouvez consulter ce livre Rubens.

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.