Wind in the trees: October 29

Right now the trees outside are changing color and getting blown to bits by some sort of Frankenstorm while my classes keep getting canceled. So in honor of the trees that are giving their lives for me to have an extra long weekend, below you’ll find a collection of beautiful ones painted and photographed. I’ve spent a lot of time outdoors enjoying the change of seasons recently, and it really is such a beautiful time, minus all the flooding and torrential rain.
Image found on Tumblr here.

Expressions of Autumn – John Scanlan
found on Tumblr here.
Olive Trees, Vincent Van Gogh
found on Tumblr here.

Birger Sandzén, Creek at Moonrise, 1921
found on Tumblr here.

Image found on Tumblr here.

Going Inland by Rick Stevens, pastel on paper, 2010
found here.

Durer to de Kooning: 100 Drawings from Munich @ the Morgan

I wrote a little too much for this review, so below you can read the extra describing I did about the pieces from this phenomenal new exhibit at the Morgan.

Read the full review on Woman Around Town here.

Andrea Mantegna, Dancing Muse, c. 1495

Last week the Morgan Library and Museum opened their first fall exhibit featuring 100 drawings by almost as many artists, all on loan from the Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, or State Graphic Collection in Munich, Germany. This new exhibit was made possible by an agreement between the two institutions – in 2008 the Morgan sent 100 drawings in their collection to the Staatliche Graphische Sammlung as a part of their 250th anniversary celebration. Four years later, 100 drawings from Munich have made their way across the ocean to create Durer to de Kooning, an exhibit that fills both the East and West Morgan Stanley Galleries.

The Staaliche Graphische Sammlung has a collection of 400,000 works that began in the 1750s, growing over time until it was moved to Munich in 1794 for protection from approaching French revolutionary forces. German kings continued to add to the collection and it was opened to the public in 1823, becoming an independent museum in 1874. It was the only art institution that remained open during World War II, until July 12, 1944 when the building was bombed and almost a third of the collection was lost. But it only continued to grow in the twentieth century, adding a number of German Expressionist works and more modern and contemporary drawings, which still remains the collection’s largest and fastest growing genre.

Beginning at the High Renaissance in Italy, the artists represented are instantly recognizable, to the point where it seems as if some pieces were chosen based on name alone.
The drawing by Leonardo da Vinci seems a little out of place.


Matthais Grunewald,
Study of a Woman with her Head Raised in Prayer

It looks like it came straight from an engineer’s notebook and all the pieces surrounding it are sketches of religious scenes.
Still, the names are impressive, and being able to see the actual handwriting and sketches of all these ancient artistic masters feels more intimate than standing before finished portraits and paintings. A few of the works have placards that even include an image of the finished painting, revealing the artist’s thought process as he worked out compositional arrangements and the orientation of the figures.

The first work to include the finished painting counterpart is Andrea Mantegna’s Dancing Muse. Completed around 1495, it features a young woman dressed in flowing, flying wrinkled dress with her hair parted down the middle and tied back; her arms teased behind her back as well and her body twisted and on her toes like she’s dancing in the wind. Drawn in pen and brown ink plus brown wash and heightened with white, the brown-gray paper the figure rests on is aged and near crumpling. Her ankles are fading away on the edge of the paper and her dress looks Greek and ancient, as if this could have come from thousands of years ago instead of hundreds. This ancient muse is only one character of many in the finished painting, shown in the placards as a detail of Parnassus, a tempera painting now in the Louvre.


Leonardo da Vinci,
Mechanism for Gold Processing, before 1495

Vincent Van Gogh’s View of Arles Across the Rhome features a typical Van Gogh scene through an atypical lens, his thick gobs of paint traded in for pen and brown ink hatching. A town can be seen across the water, a bridge connecting it to what’s across the way, and a shadowed figure in a boat is rowing in the water before us. While traveling in Arles, France, Van Gogh had to save money on materials and so turned to drawing, and this work shows his drawing style’s turn towards more rapid, fluid strokes.

Read the rest of my review here on Woman Around Town >>

Vincent van Gogh, View of Arles on the Rhone River, c. 1888
Francis Picabia, Mask and transparence, 1925

Art thieves in real life: Rotterdam

The empty space where Matisse’s “La Liseuse en Blanc et Jaune” used to be.
Next to a painting by Maurice Denis.

Turns out the life of an art thief might not be all that glamorous after all. The problem with stealing something so rare, is that it can be very hard to get rid of when it’s something everyone is looking for, plus close to impossible to sell for all the money it’s really worth.

In the recent heist at the gallery in Rotterdam, the thieves stole seven works by Picasso, Monet, Gauguin, Matisse, and others estimated at being worth more than $100 million at auction. This article today on Fox News doubts whether the thieves even have a plan. If they don’t the works they stole can become more of a burden that they were worth to steal in the first place.

“Reading Girl in White and Yellow”
Stolen Matisse work from 1919 

One illegal art trafficker tried for 20 years to sell a statue of Nero’s mother stolen from Pompeii before it was announced as recovered last Thursday.

After drugs and illicit arms sales, art theft is the third most profitable crime in the world. A lot of stolen art is never found, and experts say that for criminals with connections, the lesser known pieces hardly have any trouble making a return for the thief who stole it.

But according to a recent CBS article, these thieves weren’t the savvy type, and mostly managed success through brute force, yanking the paintings from the walls, leaving only white space and broken hanging wires behind.

“Charing Cross Bridge, London”
Stolen Monet from 1901

They set off the alarm at 3am on Tuesday morning, and even though officers were on the scene within five minutes, the thieves were already gone. Some say this is probably due to the location of the gallery, placed right next to three main highways. Tire tracks were visible outside the emergency exit that played a part in the supposed getaway route.

Twenty-five officers have been assigned to the case but right now the getaway car hasn’t been found and there are no suspects. The Kunsthal museum was shut down only the day of the theft. The director of the museum, Emily Ansenk released this as a part of her statement Tuesday:

“These are unique works which have already been exhibited all over the world, are well documented and were now being exhibited together for the first time ever. We, the Kunsthal, and the Triton Foundation Board are deeply shocked by what has happened, but we will not allow it to defeat us. We have all decided that the exhibition will go ahead as usual tomorrow.”

All images from this NYTimes slideshow.

Google, what’s my masterpiece? Round two: Jacques-Louis David

Even though Jacques-Louis David (pronounced Daaav-EED, I know, it’s French and weird) was considered to be the greatest painter of the 18th century. A Frenchman who worked mostly in a neoclassicist style, he’s not much discussed in my art history classes aside from “the guy who painted ‘The Death of Marat’.”

Surprisingly though, his history painting “Oath of the Horatii” is what comes up first under his Google artwork page, depicting a scene in early Rome where three brothers agree to sacrifice their lives for the city, placing civic loyalty over everything else. These historical themes were useful for David, as a vehicle to actively support the French Revolution, since loyalty to state is what’s most important here too.

“The Death of Marat,” number two for David according to Google, also has ties to the Revolution and is said to be the most well-known image that came from it. Jean-Paul Marat was a French revolutionary leader and journalist who had a skin condition that was helped by a bath. Which is why here he lies in the tub, holding out a piece of paper that in French reads, Because I am unhappy, I have a right to your help.”

Marat was stabbed in the bath by his political enemy Charlotte Corday who did not bother fleeing and was eventually tried and executed for his murder. You can’t see her here in the painting, but her name is also written on the piece of paper Marat holds, as he’s writing with his last breaths – a martyr for the Revolution.

Napoleon Crossing the Alps comes in at number three for David on Google, showing the breadth of his political alignment throughout his career and life – he aligned with the new ruler after being imprisoned.

Oath of the Horatii, 1784, Louvre

Death of Marat, 1793,  Royal Museums of the Fine Arts of Belgium

Napoleon Crossing the Alps, 1800, Château de Malmaison

And now it’s a happy art history Sunday!

From concrete to abstract: a conceptual evolution of the chair

Socrates had a theory about how we know things exist – I’ve been trying for a while to find a way to explain so it makes sense, but this excerpt from HistoryforKids.org (not embarrassed:) breaks it down better than I could:

He thought that everything had a sort of ideal form, like the idea of a chair, and then an actual chair was a sort of poor imitation of the ideal chair that exists only in your mind. One of the ways Plato tried to explain his ideas was with the famous metaphor of the cave. He said, Suppose there is a cave, and inside the cave there are some men chained up to a wall, so that they can only see the back wall of the cave and nothing else. These men can’t see anything outside of the cave, or even see each other clearly, but they can see shadows of what is going on outside the cave. Wouldn’t these prisoners come to think that the shadows were real, and that was what things really looked like?

I like to think that art developed alongside this same kind of idea – beginning at creating exact replications of reality for documentation purposes, evolving and evolving into billions of beautiful interpretations until the invention of photography slingshot substantive art into billions of other possibilities, but all the other types – the Untitled’s with no beginning or ending or purpose now have an easy way out with clicks of technology.

A chair started out as just a chair and became interpretations of what a chair looked like – sometimes colorful sometimes abstracted – and then moved into the concept of sitting down, resting and comfort, and now has moved into realms of design, rethinking how we’re able to manipulate the construction of chairs in the first place.

I want to create a series out of this thought, posting artworks that focus on an item or idea and move from the most realistic to the most abstract representations of that thing in art, as we move chronologically. If you think I’m missing a work that belongs in the line – if I leave out your favorite representation of a char for instance – and you want me to add another piece to the post, send it on over!

Van Gogh Chair, 1888-1889
for more works by Van Gogh, check out the Van Gogh Gallery here🙂

One and Three Chairs by Joseph Kosuth, 1965

This is another kind of concept along the same lines – how many ways can you represent the same thing?

“Kitchen Chair” by Küchenstuhl, 1965
found here

Man in a Chair, 1983-5
A portrait of Baron Thyssen by Jean-Antoine Watteau
(from the Tate catalogue) found here
Roy McMakin, paintings with chairs & sculptures of chairs, 2006, installation view
Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery, New York and James Harris Gallery, Seattle, Photo: Mark Woods
found here
Rocking Wheel Chair By Mathias Koehler
found in this post with a lot of other cool chairs