E is for Ensor

E

 

James Ensor

 

The Entry of Christ into Brussels (1888) is one of the paintings that knocked me for a loop the first time I saw it--and I saw it only in reproduction. Unfortunately I haven’t yet had a chance to see the original, in the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, though I’d love to someday. I imagine it must be overwhelming.

 

 

 

 

I still think it’s one of the most disturbing, even frightening, works of art I’ve ever seen. And it continually fascinates me.

 

James Ensor (1860-1949) was a Belgian painter, and his work both influenced and exemplified Expressionism. He began as a realist painter, but then became fascinated by symbols such as masks, costumes, and skeletons and used them to express the theme of the inhumanity of man.

 

In this painting, probably his masterpiece, the viewer’s eye is swamped by grotesque faces and death’s-heads and garish colors. The figure of Christ on a donkey is barely visible in the center of the painting, only a large gold halo distinguishing him. The ugly faces of the crowd seem more like predators waiting to attack him than like worshippers. The banner overhead translates to “Long Live Social Progress” and one of the signs as “Never-Failing Fanfares of State Power.”

 

His paintings reflected his fears and anxieties, and he seemed to identify personally with the sufferings of Christ. Much of his work had been rejected, and this painting itself wasn’t displayed until 1929.

 

He is still not well known by today’s audiences, but his work had a great influence on expressionist and surrealist artists in the twentieth century. His Swedish contemporary Edvard Munch (best known for “The Scream”) is much better known, though his work and psychological themes are quite similar to those of Ensor.

 

One modern tribute has been paid to him, though, by They Might Be Giants in their song “Meet James Ensor”.

 

 

D for Durer

 

D

 

Dürer

Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528) fits the definition of a Renaissance man (though German rather than Italian). He was a painter, an engraver, a printmaker, and a mathematician who wrote books on geometry and human proportions.

          Of all of these, I have a special preferences for his woodblock prints and engravings because of the delicacy and intricacy of the fine lines. To make a woodcut the artist carves an image into the surface of a block of wood, gouging out the parts he wants to remain white and leaving the part to be printed level with the surface. The block is then covered with ink and applied to paper. It sounds as though this technique would be clumsy and that only large, bloblike images would show. But look at this woodcut of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:

         

 

 

There are blacks, grays, whites, all shades of monochrome, and the fine detailing looks like it was drawn with very fine pen and ink. Incredible to realize that this was all cut out of wood.

Here are some more examples of Dürer woodcuts:

 

 

St. Michael the Archangel

 

 

 

 

The Nativity

Caravaggio

C

 

Caravaggio

 

 

Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571-1610) may have been art’s first “bad boy.” A difficult and troubled personality, he was constantly at odds with the world. Born in Milan, he moved to Rome to further his career. He was arrested a number of times for violent conduct and finally killed a man in a fight. He was forced to leave Rome, Naples, Malta, and Sicily successively because of trouble with the law. (Portrait by Ottavio Leoni)

 

But he was one of history’s greatest and most influential artists. He adopted and refined the technique of chiarascuro painting--contrasts of light and dark--and his use of the technique later influenced Rubens and Rembrandt, among others. Many of his paintings hang in Roman churches and chapels.

 

 

The Calling of St. Matthew



David with the Head of Goliath (Goliath's head is a self-portrait)

 

Caravaggio was controversial in his time for more than his behavior. Many of his paintings were rejected, especially by churches, because of his insistence on portraying Christ and his disciples as poor peasants. He even had a prostitute pose for a painting of the Virgin Mary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Conversion of St. Paul on the Road to Damascus may be his masterpiece, one of his most powerful works. It depicts the moment when Saul of Tarsus, a persecutor of early Christians, heard the voice of Christ and fell to the ground in ecstasy; he became the apostle St. Paul, who was instrumental in spreading Christianity throughout the Mediterranean world. Notice how the light falls on Paul, yet the center of the painting is dominated by his horse. The light and the horse's raised leg draw the viewer's eye down almost to be surprised by the figure lying on the ground.

 

 

 

 

See here for a collection of all of Caravaggio's works.

 

Welcome to my A-Z Blogging Experience.

This year I decided to share my love of art, specifically painting, for my A-Z theme. Throughout the month I’ll be highlighting artists or artwork that I especially like or that have meaning for me and for art. Disclaimer: I am not an artist, art historian or scholar, or any kind of professional in art. I just have a passion for it. I have spent many wonderful, fleeting hours in art museums. I’ve read quite a bit in art history and biographies of artists. I am no expert by any means, so take this as a personal, idiosyncratic look at some of the most beautiful and lasting creations made by the human heart and soul.

 

B

Blue Period: Picasso

 

From Picasso’s Blue Period (1901–1904): "The Soup", 1902 

 

A sad, tired mother—tall, thin, typical of Picasso’s figures in this period—shuffling along in a long blanket-like robe that conceals her whole body. Her head is bent perpendicular to her body, parallel to the floor, as though the frame of the painting is pressing down on her. She holds out a bowl of soup, steam rising from it.

 

In striking contrast is the little girl, running, almost leaping toward the mother, her hands stretched upward for the soup. Her eyes are wide open, whereas the woman’s are closed. She looks eager, energetic, as opposed to the weariness in the woman’s slumping body. Is she happy or just desperate for food? It’s hard to tell. Hard to tell whether this is a portrait of people so poor that the soup may be the only food the little girl will have today, or whether it’s a scene of warm affection between a mother and daughter. It’s hard to see the mother as anything but worn out, but the girl’s attitude is ambiguous.

 

So many of the people in the Blue Period paintings look like that—poor, sad, beaten down by life. Art historians theorize that Picasso was deeply affected by the suicide of a friend. He did experience a deep depression, during which he painted many of the Blue Period pictures. That he turned his sorrow into art, as true artists do, is a gift to history and humanity.

 

A is for....

Welcome to my A-Z Blogging Experience.

This year I decided to share my love of art, specifically painting, for my A-Z theme. Throughout the month I’ll be highlighting artists or artwork that I especially like or that have meaning for me and for art. Disclaimer: I am not an artist, art historian or scholar, or any kind of professional in art. I just have a passion for it. I have spent many wonderful, fleeting hours in art museums. I’ve read quite a bit in art history and biographies of artists. I am no expert by any means, so take this as a personal, idiosyncratic look at some of the most beautiful and lasting creations made by the human heart and soul.

 

A is for:

Annunciation

The Annunciation was one of the most popular and beautiful subjects for painters in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Each artist used his own interpretation of the subject, and there’s a tremendous variety among them. Some show Mary in a garden, others in a bedroom or other room. Often she will be shown reading. Sometimes the angel Gabriel will be offering her a flower.

 

 

 

This one, by Simone Martini, is my favorite not only for the beautiful gilding but also because of the way Mary shrinks from Gabriel-it's different from most other depictions, and I think it's true to the way a real woman would react to being confronted with an angel!

 

 

By Rogier van der Weyden

 

 

 

 

By Meister de Sakramentars

By Leonardo da Vinci

Which do you like best?

 

Annunciation

They understood piety, the painters,

(and reverence and love)

but the heart of a young woman—

                a human heart, though blessed by God—

what could they have known?

 

They understood “Hail full of grace,”

but her face—did she gaze with awe and wonder

                at the beautiful being,

                or turn away in humility or fear?

                (Fear would be natural, in one so young,

                                even one blessed by God.)

 

When the air before her shimmered and split

                and released him, a man but not a man,

                no suitor though he brings her flowers

                (a single lily?), calls her grace.

 

Behind him the splendid air shines,

                expands, fills with white, feathery, like a crane or a dove.

 

The day, begun so ordinarily, turned miraculous—

and all she needs to do is listen, accept, a mustard seed of faith

                to grow into man’s fate.

 

Oh Lord, thy will is my will,

                Let it be done.

 

 

 

Knitting Snobbery? Why?

Knitting Snobbery? Why?

 

This sign appears in the window of my local yarn shop:

 

 

Oh, that’s nice to know, was my first thought. But the next instant I realized that a sign like that shouldn’t even be necessary. Shouldn’t both crafts be equal in yarn shops?

 

However, I wasn’t surprised. It just underscored a phenomenon I became aware of once I started crocheting: the strange sort of snobbishness some knitters seem to have toward crocheters, at least in the professional yarnworking world.

 

One would think that we would be sisters- (or even brothers-) in-arms. After all, many people do both crafts.

 

But I began to get enlightened on my first visit to a yarn store. A group of women were seated around a long table, knitting—a common sight in yarn shops. While the knitting friends I had come with browsed, I asked one of the employees for information about crocheting. She cut me off rather quickly: oh, we really don’t have any crocheters here. Well, do you sell hooks? No, no hooks. She did direct me, rather cursorily, to the type of yarn I was looking for but wasn’t overly interested.

 

Nor was this an isolated incident. In nearly every yarn shop I’ve been in, the focus is on knitting. Every piece on display in the shop is knitted. In my LYS, with the sign displayed above, there is one crocheter among the employees, and she is still primarily a knitter. This shop doesn’t display any crocheted pieces, either.

 

So what’s going on here? Are we crocheters consigned to being second-class crafters? Why does crochet seemingly have a poor reputation?

 

I wonder if it’s because there are so many visible “kitschy” crochet patterns, things like coasters and baby hair bows and tissue box covers. Do many people think that knitting is for making beautiful garments and crocheting is for knickknacks?

 

But just check out a few issues of, for instance, Interweave Crochet magazine to see patterns such as these sweaters that are as beautiful as anything knit.

 

 Designed by Anastasia Popova

 

 Designed by Annette Petavy

 

 

Furthermore, the possibilities for delicate lace patterns in crochet are nearly endless.

 

Designed by Doris Chan

 Designed by Vashti Braha

 

 Designed by Kathryn White

 

 

So are there any knitters out there who can tell me why crochet shouldn’t be considered just as beautiful and valuable a craft as knitting? Or am I forever destined to be a tea drinker in a coffee drinkers' world?

 

The Hook and I

TheHook and I: How I Became a Crocheter

(in honor of National Crochet Month)

 

During the summer of 2011 I decided to teach myself to crochet. Now, I’ve never considered myself to be a “crafty” person. Oh, I’d loved doing arts and crafts as a child, but when I grew up I decided I had no talent for it. Around college age a friend taught me to knit. I started off enthusiastically, attempting to do a sweater (really) for my first project. As I remember, I actually finished the back panel, but then inertia (and pain in my shoulders and back) set in, and I never finished it. That was the extent of my needlecraft for about forty years.

 

I began to find myself attracted to crochet. Maybe it was the lacy, delicate patterns. Maybe it was my fascination with how it could be done with only one hook. Maybe it was the notion that it would be less physically straining. Even so, it still took a while for the creative desire and the actual motivation to finally collide. When my mother was in rehab after her hip surgery, I began to notice that some patients there had beautiful afghans and quilts for their beds. Others didn’t. And I began to think idly, someone who knew how to crochet could make blankets for them. That’s when the lightbulb went on. Hey, I can learn to do that!

 

I didn’t have anyone to teach me this time. No one I knew, at least close by, was a crocheter. I seemed to remember that my mother had talked about doing it when she was a girl, but now, stricken with dementia as she was, I couldn’t turn to her as a resource. So I did what I always do: I looked for books. In the course of that, I found a lot online—lessons, tutorials, diagrams, super-easy patterns. I decided to start with the easiest thing possible: a single-crochet dishcloth. Just a square. Just row after row of one stitch. What could be easier, right?

 

I printed out a pattern and enlisted my knitting friend to take me to her favorite yarn shop, where I picked out my first skein of yarn, a soft, blue cotton, and the proper size hook. I went back online and looked up tutorials: how to make a starting chain. How to do the single-crochet stitch. I sat in front of the computer practicing the slip knot, the chain stitch.

 

And how did I make out? Here’s my first try at a dishcloth. Don’t laugh.

 

 

            Okay, laugh. But it taught me something. It showed me I didn’t know how to count stitches and handle the turning chains. I was adding stitches to each row without realizing it. Clearly it was much easier to count stitches in knitting than in crochet. But I was not discouraged! I just knew I needed more learning and more practice. I went to my local yarn shop for some pointers. Several dishcloths later I was doing much better.

 

 

 

 

(But I still use the hourglass cloth--it’s nice and thick and the single crochet makes it effective and durable.)

 

In the meantime I picked up several more projects--scarves, fingerless gloves, a capelet.

 

 

I was surprising myself with how much I enjoyed this craft. I tried to learn something new with each project. By that Christmas my mother was in assisted living, and I found the opportunity to return to my original intention: I decided to make a Christmas-themed lap throw to donate to the memory unit.

 

And here it is: my first ripple afghan. It was very gratifying to see it covering and warming a resident in her or his chair.

 

 

 

I’ve been happily crocheting now for a year and a half. I think I’ve come a long way, but I know I have much more to learn, and I’m looking forward to it. It’s the wonderful kind of hobby that you can keep on learning and improving at. I expect to be a crocheter for many more years. So maybe I really am a “crafty” person after all!