Titian's daughter, Lavinia and other things

This photo is of Titian's daughter, Lavinia, who was his model for many of his pictures. It is but a headshot of a half-figure portrait. I saw it in Napoli at the Capodimonte Museum many years ago. I was staying on Capri in a funky old hotel in the unglamorous port side of the island. I used to take the ferry across to Napoli to visit this incredible museum. 

This photo, which I took of this portrait, I've had ever since and is currently affixed to an IKEA cabinet in the kitchen. Before that it lived in a Filofax agenda that I carried around for years before the arrival of the i-phone.

This portrait stops me in my tracks sometimes between tasks while preparing dinner. In fact, she has never been far from me. Butt she's not the only one. I have various other small 'crushes' scattered about my home. Marguerite Matisse is another one. Her father also used her as a model often but always as his daughter.

Titian painted Lavinia in various roles and many poses in so many different pictures. Though it's not officially noted I'm sure that the famous Venus of Urbino is Lavinia. But there are many others to spread out in grand museums all over the world. 

Upon walking into a palatial room at the top of the museum, the bay of Naples spread out through the large windows,  I saw her and was smitten immediately. It's complicated to explain because I loved her for the way she looked, but I also loved her for the way he painted her. Full disclosure: I have also fallen in love with other women simply by seeing their portraits. Goya made at least one, but there are others too. What does it mean to fall in love with a painted portrait? Is that so crazy? I mean, people today fall in love with photographs of their objects of desire, non? 

Another one was Titian's St Margaret, in the Prado, and may have also been one of Lavinia's  modelling jobs. I saw this large picture during my first year in France when I visited Madrid at the beginning of my studies in art. To be really honest, I had such a visceral sensation upon seeing this giant portrait that I was disturbed for weeks afterward. It was not by the picture nor the talents of Titian, but from my erotic attraction to the model in the painting. Whether or not it was Lavinia doesn't matter, though it might have been. I was just overwelmed by the emotion in her face and her voluptuously imposing body, because at 21, I was quite impressed by certain kinds of women, either painted or in the flesh. Indeed, it was considered at the time a risqué picture for Titian revealed her long naked leg which would have driven those priests mad. 

St Margaret, Titian, The Prado museum

According to legend, St Margaret of Antioch (4th century Turkey) was expelled from home by her pagan father priest when she was converted to Christianity by a local midwife. She then vowed to be virgin but her beauty was such that she bewitched a local Roman Governor whose advances she had spurned. He had her imprisoned and tortured, but while in prison she met the devil who took the form of a dragon. He then tried to eat her but the cross she held in her hand so irritated the dragon that he disgorged her. She  survived subsequent attempts by fire and drowning until she was finally beheaded. 

Being the Middle Ages, of course, there were spectators for each assassination attempt and the more she survived the bigger the crowds. She ended up converting thousands to Christianity after witnessing her ordeal, but alas, they too were put to death. She became a saint one thousand years later, hmmm. What is it with all these Men who want to hurt women, then years later venerate them? 

But anyway, she became a great fixation for me and I not only fell for her but for Titian too.

One anecdote about Titian I really love, because the Renaissance was not only time of greatness (for some) but a wonderful time to be a painter, (great or crappy). Like today, where families are held in high regard if there is a lawyer or or accountant in their brood, during the 15th and 16th centuries, a family would equally be celebrated for having a painter or two in their midst. Painters were revered everywhere in Italy. 

So the story goes that when Titian was painting Pope Paul III, he dropped a paint brush during the session and then waited for the Pope to get off his chair and bend over to pick it up for him. How times have changed.

      Pope Paul III, Titian, 1543, Capodimonte Museum, Napoli
 

 

  

Legoland

I really don't know what to say about this apartment building complex except that it looks so remarkable. I can't believe that I didn't know them while living in France. I had seen La Grand Motte from the autoroute many times from a distance and though it looked like just a large area full of 1960's apartments never did I imagine that it housed such imaginative architecture.

These images are taken from an article in the New York Times from last week. If you can get by their paywall, try to get in because it's a great article. I tried to see them via Google Earth but whole areas in La Grand Motte are fuzzed out for some reason, probably due to some military zoning. But what i could see showed many other apartment buildings laid out in symmetrical shapes as if designed from outer space.

Copacabana, Rio 

These buildings remind me of some many wonderful things I saw (in print) out of Brasilia, the capitol of Brazil. But in Rio, where I did once go years many ago, I saw that same playfulness everywhere in all sorts of small details around the city. Even seeing the mosaic patterns of the Copacabana from a hotel room high up, was a great surprise for me. It spoke to me of visual pleasure, and yes, a child-like visionary joy of urban living.

I haven't a clue what these apartments are like on the inside or what they are like to live in but imagine the pleasure it might be to just to come home after shopping at Carrefour to an apartment in one of these?

 

Arthur Boyd and the black sheep of Australia

These are wild images from the Australian artist Arthur Boyd which I believe were painted at the end of his life. I will let interested parties google him if their interest is piqued by these things. John MacDonald, the critic for the Sydney Morning Herald who has an astute eye and a rich cultured mind wrote a recent piece about him, also for the curious-minded.

I like very much the image above while I find everything else fascinating but maybe less engaging, personally speaking. 

I've always found that Australian artists back in the early part of the 20th century were on the whole, a determined lot of eccentric and original artists, and Boyd was no exception. 

In this wild continent so far removed from Europe they found themselves out of the loop and on their own. This was a good thing I believe, because it protected them from the conventional conformity of 'Modern Art' that raged through the capitals of Europe and America. There was a kind of proud defiance, a renegade streak, among many of these Australian artists.

Now, of course, in Australia, like most other countries around this shrinking cultural globe, Post-Modernist theory has infected all the art schools. This has sadly created an environment of pretty universally bland and conventional art despite possessing that kind of sizzle that appeals to Contemporary galleries and cool curators who themselves are also artists. This has created it own 'closed loop' of a system. Whoa!.... But,... tut tut, I'm being severe!... yet maybe you get my point.

So one could say that there have been two kinds of art in Australia since the Europeans arrived. One, authentically rooted in the ancestral coding of the land. The other (and newer one) was imported by the British settlers. 

The former is a large network of indigenous artists from all over this gigantic continent. I don't want to simplify a complicated idea, but their work, like all indigenous cultures around the world, spring up from their authentic experiences of living from this earth.

But the second art of Australia was a white art, not less valid, just foreign, and imported, its roots are colonial nonetheless. Again this is a subject I'm less equipped to pontificate upon, at least now anyway. As we say in the Bronx, "it's complicated".

Gradually, this early European tradition of painting evolved, and after a few centuries, it joined the global rush towards an 'expression of originality'.

But despite catching up with the arty trends of the rest of the world (and its mother ship Britain), Australian art of the 20th century maintained its own wild and rebellious defiance. 

I think it came into its own when it finally accepted Britain's snobbery towards Australia by owning it's reputation a bit like Queer became a defiantly proud slogan of the LGBQ community. Australian artists embrace their unique identity  in their unique land Down-Under. They said to Britain; Yes, OK, we're the smelly black sheep, and we're proud of it,,, so 'Sod Off' Pommies! 

Of course, all this is quite fanciful on my part but there might be a sliver of truth to it nonetheless.  

After all, Australia had been conceived as a penitentiary and established to receive its previous black sheep, the Irish, and the rest of poor unfortunates that Britain had wished to dispose of without having to execute them all. Australia would always be considered to the poor relation.  

But that was then, and now is now. These Australian artists of the 20th century have forged diverse paths as if slashing their way through the rough landscape of this rugged country with a machete. 

So, Arthur Boyd began like a European, but ended up as a wildly original visionary. Nice!

   

 

Disclaimer!

Disclaimer! Once in a blue moon I re-post older things when it suits me so just for fun, here is one from two years ago.

I find it fascinating because isn't always interesting to see another dimension to one's own work?

I confess that I am almost tempted to propose a show of these small intimate images in this vertical state because people might find them more interesting presented in this format. 

It's true, fewer people these days are interested in reality than ever before, and this of course, raises a lot of questions to explore for another time. Enjoy! 

,

09 October 2022

a pot pourri of the painter's psyche.

These Evening Prayers were all painted over the past few months, randomly chosen for their stronger contrasts perhaps, but quite simply, I just wanted to see how these paintings would look vertically, just for fun,,,, why else? It was easily done and they were rotated to the right or left without too much thought. 

They are interesting because quite suddenly, they seem foreign to me, standing up tall like gangly teenagers, while me, the middle-aged parent gawks with surprise.

Except one, are all rotated just one turn, but this image, upside down, feels more like something from an amusement park. 

 

By playing with all these images in this way, I was allowed to experience not only the light differently, but the colour too, notably, the way colours interact with each other so differently in a vertical format.

Also, the gravitational aspect of them pulls the eye a little bit towards one lateral side or the other and makes them feel a bit wonky, and this is also destabilising in a weirdly positive way for me.

This was an experiment solely for pleasure as I said because I wanted to experience these images in a new way and indeed, it seems apparent there are lots of stripes in this painter's psyche.