DC in May

This past weekend, AA and I took a quick trip to Washington, D.C. (Thanks, amigo, for doing all that driving!). The main reason we went was to see the exhibition Pre-Raphaelites: Victorian Art and Design, 1848-1900 at the National Gallery (more on that in another post). I last was in DC back in December 2010 when RL and I went to the same museum to see the Pre-Raphaelite photography exhibition, as well as the Hide/Seek gay identity show at the National Portrait Gallery. On this trip, I wanted to see more of what I haven't seen in DC before, which is exactly what we got to do. We were concerned that it was going to rain all day Saturday, but we got lucky: the rain held off for most of the day, and the sun was shining brightly. After the exhibition we strolled along the National Mall, pigged out on ice cream, then queued up for the National Archive. Many of the exhibition areas there are targeted to children these days, but it was worth taking a few moments amid the crowds to peak at the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, although I later jokingly commented on Facebook that I was more excited to have seen the Magna Carta on display.

Although we stayed at the Washington Hilton, we headed to the nearby Bar Dupont at the Dupont Circle Hotel for a late lunch and had wine with shrimp beignets and mussels mariniere. For dinner we went to Casa Oaxaca for a fantastic meal: pollo with mole negro for AA, pollo with mole poblano for me (that's the picture you see here; here's more information about delicious chili-chocolate mole sauce). There were also margaritas, guacamole and chips, and yummy churros with ice cream for dessert. Brunch the next morning included mimosas, coffee, basket of pastries, and omelets at Le Diplomate. All the neighborhoods we visited were adorable, with Victorian row houses and mini-mansions. It made me realize again that DC truly is a charming city and does have a great deal to offer someone--being politically active is probably a necessity though.


On Sunday we visited some of the monuments, and would you believe it was the first time I ever saw the Jefferson Memorial and the Lincoln Memorial? The large-scale inscription from the Gettysburg Address on the wall at the Lincoln Memorial made me stop and read it again, and I was struck by one line in particular: "The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here." American history spends so much time emphasizing this short speech, but even at the time Lincoln himself recognized that it was not his words but the actions of the dead soldiers on the field that truly mattered. It really is a powerful speech. We also visited the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial as well, which I liked a great deal, with its organic approach, sculpture, stone, and water features integrated into the park that surrounds it. The picture you see here is of me between the over-life-sized bronze statues of Roosevelt and his beloved Scottish terrier, Fala.

The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial was quite interesting from an artistic perspective. I took this picture showing how the larger-than-life statue of the civil rights leader is hewn from the "Stone of Hope," a reference to his famous I Have a Dream speech. The way King projects from the stone conjures the image of the non-finito, the unfinished (think Michelangelo), an appropriate visual statement about how his assassination cut him down before he could fulfill his life's work. The statue is surrounded by quotations from his many speeches, and I found this one from Georgia, 1967, to be poignant: "If we are to have peace on earth, our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Our loyalties must transcend our race, our tribe, our class, and our nation; and this means we must develop a world perspective." (I wonder if any Congressmen have read and thought about this?) We also took in the National World War II Memorial, a picture of which you see at the top of this blog post. I really loved this memorial, with the outstretched colonnades reminding me of Bernini's architectural features surrounding Vatican Plaza. The fountain was lovely as well. Situated between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, the memorial to those who died in World War II is a beautiful area for contemplation and respite amid all the other memorials on the Mall. (You can read more about the DC parks on the National Park Services website.) Soon afterwards we started our long drive north, amazed at how much we had done in 24 hours, and feeling truly satisfied with our little jaunt to the nation's capital.

CAA 2014 in Chicago

The College Art Association will hold its 102nd annual meeting next February 12-15, 2014, in Chicago. As much as I want to take a trip out there, I do NOT want to go in February, so I'll be skipping next year's conference. (You'll recall this year's conference was here in NYC, and last year's was in Los Angeles.) The deadline for proposals for papers for the 2014 conference is coming up on May 13th. In reviewing some of the panels, I've identified a few that look promising, at least from my particular art historical angle:
** "Antimodernism(s) in French Art and Culture, 1860-1914" (reconsidering the 'other' to the mainstream development of art history's march to modernism)
** "The Maternal Body Exposed: Fecundity, Birth Control, and Countering Infertility in Contemporary Art" (reverse feminism emphasizing the pregnant body?)
** "Re-Examining Fashion in Western Art, 1775-1975" (spinning off from the recent Impressionism, Fashion and Modernity exhibition)
** "The Image of Nineteenth-Century Money" (a session DE is rather excited about, as a new collector of American currency from the 1800s)
** "Studio Shots: Representations of Women as Artists" (mostly in photographs, what do the images say about 'woman' as working artist?)
** "The Art of Display: Context and Meaning, 1700-1850" (effect of installations on art, chaired by my colleague Christina Ferando, a specialist on Antonio Canova)
** "Ethereal Performance: The Lasting Legacy of Temporary Public Sculpture" (short-term exhibitions & installations of sculpture in 19th and 20th centuries)
** "Queer Gothic: Difference and Sexuality in British Art and Architecture" (someone will do a paper on Walpole and Strawberry Hill, I'm sure; sponsored by the Historians of British Art)
** And the prize for best-named panel session... "Drachma-tic Art: The Economics of Ancient Greek Visual Culture"

PUNK: The Costume Institute Gala

Once again, readers, it's time to praise the highs and boo the lows in fashion at the annual Costume Institute Gala, which was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art last night to celebrate the opening of PUNK: Chaos to Couture, the latest annual exhibition from the Costume Institute. (Clearly, this is another attempt to capitalize on the tremendous success of the Alexander McQueen exhibition, and bring in the 20something--and 50something!?--generation.) Rumor has it tickets to the gala were $25,000 each, and for that guests got dinner and entertainment by Debbie Harry and Kanye West. (I was all ready to go but, seriously, can you see me in safety pins and pink hair?) You'll recall I've been commenting on this annual event for the past three years now (here, here, and here), and why miss out on this one? You can read all the details about the actual gala and the nearly 800 in attendance by reading this article in The New York Times. The one thing that troubles me is that in previewing the slideshows of the red carpet event (such as this one from New York magazine), I don't know who half the people are anymore! Have I gotten that old already that I have no idea who anyone under 25 is? Nah...I'm just too damn busy and important to care.

So...I can't even believe I'm saying this, but Beyoncé gets the top prize for her gown as the highlight of the evening (above). It has a 1990s-Baroque-Versace look with its gold-trimmed train, but it's actually Givenchy, designed by Riccardo Tisci, and it does look rather stunning on her busty, post-baby (yet remarkably svelte) figure. Tisci was one of the co-coordinators of the gala, and many of his fashions were a hit on the red carpet. Madonna--who reportedly bitches every year about how much she hates the party and will never return, only to return each year--was rather punky-and-perky in another Tisci ensemble for Givenchy (left). Anne Hathaway was shockingly blonde and punk in see-through, black Valentino. Maggie Gyllenhaal was a stunning lady in red, although her dress should have had more shoulder coverage. Uma Thurman's form-fitting Zac Posen mermaid dress would have been fabulous in any other color but puke green. And that's the good fashion! Get ready for the disasters, because there were some biggies...

Poor Kristen Stewart was all blood-red wearing her grandmother's lace table-runner. I like Kirsten Dunst, but her outfit reminded me of a Swiffer duster and made me want to clean. Poor Jennifer Lopez (sorry, AA!)...she basically skinned a leopard and squeezed it over those killer hips of hers. Emma Watson fell victim to Lord Voldemort with all the slashes in her dress. Sarah Jessica Parker looked like a peacock in her Treacy hat. And Elle Fanning apparently fell into a 1970s tie-dye vat. Without a doubt, however, the absolute worst dresser of the night was Kim Kardashian, who tried to proudly show off her baby-bump but instead wound up looking like a giant balloon wearing Laura Ashley floral wallpaper (surprisingly, another Tisci for Givenchy outfit). Among the men, Marc Jacobs continued to reveal his insanity by wearing Pierrot polka-dot pajamas. I'm still not sure how I feel about Tyson Beckford's pink camouflage blazer. Fortunately some men know you can never go wrong in a good black tux, and Gerard Butler, Alexander Skarsgard, and Andy Cohen all looked rather delectable. To wrap things up I'll end with this charmingly cute shot of gay actor Zachary Quinto (right), who did well among the men by showing off a combination of high class style with some punk in an ensemble by Vivienne Westwood.

(Image credits: Beyonce and Madonna: Timothy A. Clary; Quinto: Dimitrious Kambouris; all from New York magazine)

UPDATE 5/14/13: In following other fashion reviewers and television reports, the number of people who hated Beyoncé's attire has been surprisingly high. I have to admit, after seeing more pictures of her look, with those ridiculous hip boots, the gown was over-the-top and not nearly as glamorous as it seemed at first. Obviously if one sees these celebrities in their finest on the actual red carpet it probably has a different impact than seeing some of these photos. Katie Holmes was lauded by most as one of the most glamorous of the evening, and while I agree that her Calvin Klein white gown was almost Cinderella-like in its diaphonous waves of fabric, she looked just a little too angelic to me.

MWA XIV: Furse's Diana

Few people know much about Charles Wellington Furse. I certainly never heard of him until very recently. British-born, he died in his mid-30s, soon after painting the work you see here, Diana of the Uplands, 1903-04. The model for the picture was his wife Katherine, and according to the Tate's website she recorded that her step-mother-in-law helped create the wind effect, and the greyhounds were hired specifically for the picture (one black dog and one white dog, although Furse combined their coloring). The title refers to classical imagery of the ancient Roman goddess Diana, who was depicted in art as a huntress accompanied by dogs. This genteel woman is meant to be a modern-day Diana, one who may lead the dogs to a hunt in the Highlands, but who would never carry a bow-and-arrow or a rifle to actually hunt, as that is the work of men. This is a modern-day portrait of opulence and refinery, a Gilded Age homage to womanhood among the British upper middle classes. The color palette and brushstroke, as well as the portrait style, clearly shows the influence of Furse's contemporary, the American society portraitist John Singer Sargent. But there also is a feeling of Grand Manner portraiture that reaches back to the eighteenth-century style of Thomas Gainsborough. The loose brushstroke captures the wind-swept feel of the hills around the woman, and her taught arm reaches out to show her struggle to restrain the dogs, eager to hunt. Indeed, the dogs looking outside the frame for prey creates a perpendicular sense of vision that contrasts with "Diana" gazing at the viewer, bringing you the viewer into the hunt scene as well. It is a fascinating, introspective-yet-staged portrait that suggests a particular moment in time.

I never would have chosen this picture as this month's MWA had I not gone this past Friday to see the exhibition Edwardian Opulence: British Art at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century at the Yale Center for British Art. The exhibition is ambitious, arranged on two floors, and incorporates paintings, sculptures, drawings, prints, photographs, decorative arts, fashion, and audio/video works. It ties in well with the popularity of Downton Abbey, but that is a coincidence, as this exhibition was planned long before the show ever aired. In the US, however, how many actually know what "Edwardian" means? It is exclusively British in that it refers to the short reign of King Edward VII (Queen Victoria's heir) from 1901-10, although it stretches Edwardian back to the mid-1890s and up to World War I. Much as the term "Victorian" is fraught with problems because it lasted 64 years, "Edwardian" equally is problematic because, for such a brief period of time, the world and cultural world expanded in ways too difficult to define by a single style. Indeed, one problem with the exhibition itself is attempting to define what Edwardian even means. I left feeling more confused because all the thematic arrangements and numerous works of art demonstrate the diverse approaches artists took with different ideas and the lack of centralization that is "Edwardian." But then again that was perhaps the curators' point, to problematize that idea and move beyond it. I also was surprised that, despite the text-based acknowledgment of the British Empire reaching its height during the Edwardian period, there is very little international art or cultural objects to demonstrate the global impact of British imperialism and its subjects. Nor is there a sense of the working classes or anyone other than the highest echelons of society (hence the "opulence" part of the exhibition). What does make the exhibition exciting and refreshing, however, is the introduction of new ideas, artists, and works that were popular a century ago in the London art world, such as Furse and the portrait above. The pictures by Sargent shine (as always, he was a brilliant artist). Photography is brought in beautifully with rare autochromes (earliest glass-based color photographs) and the thematic arrangement of society photos showing off the first motor cars like equestrian portraits of the past. All in all, the exhibition is interesting in showcasing heretofore little-known works and artists, and putting together a large number of themes that show how many ways the Edwardians celebrated their cultural life. If this exhibition accomplishes anything, hopefully it will be the opening up to future scholarship further examination of the areas and ideas not seen in the exhibition, so as to better demonstrate how fascinating this world just before the outbreak of World War I actually was. Indeed, the charm of Downton Abbey isn't so much what's happening upstairs, but what's happening downstairs and outside the walls of the estate too.

Doctoral Dissertation Deposited

Last Friday, I had final meetings, got about a zillion signatures, went up and down floors over and over carrying more papers for signatures, and paid a few required bills, but after a few hours of all this work my dissertation was officially deposited with the CUNY Graduate Center. In other words, it's all done! And I couldn't be happier. I don't expect too many people to actually read my 301-page dissertation. However, I thought I would at least put on my blog the abstract for it, which is a 2-page summary of what I've completed. I now present this to you for your reading pleasure. The picture you see here is Gibson's Hunter and His Dog, made for the Earl of Yarborough in 1847, now in the collection of the Usher Gallery in Lincoln, England. (For more of my posts on Gibson, click here.)

Beyond Polychromy: John Gibson, the Roman School of Sculpture, and the Modern Classical Body

by

Roberto C. Ferrari, Ph.D.

This dissertation is a study of the life and career of the British sculptor John Gibson (1790-1866), whose Roman studio near the Piazza del Popolo was a frequently visited site for Grand Tourists during the nineteenth century.  I argue that, for Gibson, classicism was modern, and thus he developed new methods for creating and disseminating the modern classical body in nineteenth-century sculpture.  Gibson is considered by scholars to be the first nineteenth-century British artist to reintroduce polychromy in marble sculpture, as exemplified by his best-known work, the so-called Tinted Venus, 1851-53, which was displayed in London at the International Exhibition of 1862.  Because this tinted statue challenged sculpture’s purity of form, the subsequently negative historiography of this work has obfuscated Gibson’s numerous other accomplishments in the history of nineteenth-century art.  In this dissertation I discuss many of his other free-standing marble statues of modern classical subjects, such as Cupid Disguised as a Shepherd Boy, ca. 1830, a popular work commissioned in marble nine times for different patrons, and The Hunter and His Dog, 1840-41, a statue considered by his contemporaries to be his masterpiece for its balance of idealism with a close study of nature.  I also examine a selection of his portrait busts and monumental statues, bas-reliefs, drawings, and work in other media, such as porcelain statuettes and engravings, for a broader perspective of his exploration of the modern classical body.  Rather than ignore his polychrome sculptures, however, I offer new readings of them to show how they intersected with these other important aspects of his career.

Although I focus on one artist and use published and unpublished archival sources to discuss Gibson and his work, my methodology is pluralistic.  I engage biography with nineteenth-century exhibition history and critical art reviews, and I link patronage and art production to gender studies and queer theory.  I also engage with sculpture in its international context, as Gibson himself would have been exposed to it in the cosmopolitan art center that was Rome.  Thus, the work of Antonio Canova and Bertel Thorvaldsen, the two leading sculptors in the Roman school, are components of this dissertation, as are the works of native British sculptors such as John Flaxman and Joseph Nollekens to demonstrate what Gibson learned from his early teachers and how he evolved to craft his own version of the modern classic in Rome.  I contextualize his work with that of his contemporaries in Rome, such as the British sculptor Richard James Wyatt, the Dutch sculptor Mathieu Kessels, and the Italian sculptor Adamo Tadolini, for a better assessment of Gibson’s sculptural practices.  I also discuss his patronage by aristocrats like Queen Victoria and Czar Alexander II, politicians such as Sir Robert Peel, and bourgeois industrialists such as the Liverpool manufacturer Richard Vaughan Yates, as well as the global dissemination of his work during his lifetime, which was exhibited internationally throughout Europe, Russia, Australia, North America, and India.

In the introductory chapter, I establish my argument, that through a reexamination of Gibson’s life and career beyond his experiments with polychrome sculpture, one can better assess his importance to the history of sculpture itself by reconsidering how he redefined the modern classical body.  The second chapter is a biographical overview that demonstrates how Gibson’s roots in the British school of art influenced his ideas about classicism as a form of modernity.  Chapter three considers Gibson’s studio practice, from the close examination of his account books to his influence on his most famous pupil, the American sculptor Harriet Hosmer.  Chapter four focuses on the homoerotic male body in Gibson’s oeuvre.  An advocate of the writings of Johann Joachim Winckelmann,  Gibson created heroic and ephebic male nudes, such as Mars Restrained by Cupid, 1819-25, a work that suggests issues as diverse as homosocialism and queer subjectivity.  Chapter five discusses Gibson’s interest in reproductive media and how, in shifting his role from a hands-on sculptor to a designer, he explored reproductive technologies in cameo production, ceramics, and printmaking to disseminate images of the modern classical body to the rising bourgeoisie.  The final chapter explores Gibson’s legacy, including his influence on New Sculptors such as Hamo Thornycroft.  Ultimately, this dissertation argues that through a reexamination of the life and work of Gibson, one can begin to move past the pejorative sensibilities of Neoclassicism itself as merely historicist and reconsider classicism as a form of modern art in the nineteenth century.

MWA XIII: Manet's Repose

Impressionism and exhibitions about Impressionist artists or themes are always a hit with audiences. At the Metropolitan Museum of Art right now, there is a sure-fire hit of an exhibition entitled Impressionism, Fashion, and Modernity, a show which was organized by the Musée d'Orsay and the Art Institute of Chicago. Mannequins wearing gowns and accessories from the 1860s through the 1880s are paired with major paintings by Monet, Renoir, Bazille, Degas, and the like. Academically speaking, there's nothing new in the idea behind this exhibition, that the Impressionists borrowed many of their subjects from fashion magazines and were conscious of modern trends in fashion (the word 'modern' itself comes from 'mode,' meaning fashion-of-the-day). However, this is the first major exhibition that has paired actual clothing with specific paintings, and the three-dimensionality of the gowns and accessories do help bring the paintings to life in a whole new way. It is important to add as well that non-Impressionist painters such as Tissot are present throughout the exhibition, so the show focuses on the Impressionists but certainly isn't just about them, and these painters equally shine as a result. Also, some of the pictures on loan are major hits from Paris and Chicago, and they're simply fantastic to see hanging in the Met's galleries in this new arrangement.

This is a preamble to the picture you see above, our latest Monthly Work of Art. The painting is Edouard Manet's Repose, ca. 1870-71, and I think it is among Manet's best portrait studies. The picture is on display in the exhibition in the section entitled "The White Dress," which captures the resurgence of the informal, white summer dress, popular in the late 1860s. (Indeed, it calls to mind Regency-style high-waisted, classical gowns from the first two decades of the 1800s--think of every Jane Austen-themed movie you've ever seen). The sitter in this work is the painter Berthe Morisot, who married Manet's brother. Morisot herself was a talented Impressionist, and much of her style of painting was influenced by Manet. As for Manet, he is without a doubt one of my favorite painters. His work in the 1860s revolutionized painting as painting, from his sweeping brushstrokes and dark outlines (influenced by Japanese prints), to the flatness of subjects and unusual color palettes that reduced volume and focused on form. In this work, he shows Morisot as a contemplative woman, informally posed, unaware that someone is staring at her. She is subjected to the (male) gaze, but is more interested in her own thoughts, ultimately empowering her more than it might at first seem.

The painting is in the collection of the Museum of Art at the Rhode Island School of Design. Their curators write the following about the picture and its history: "Viewers at the 1873 Paris Salon found Morisot's casual pose to be in defiance of good taste and were uneasy with the elements of Manet's radical style: broad, tactile paint-handling, pictorial compression, and the dominant contrast of light and dark tones. Manet called this painting a 'study,' not a portrait, defining his concern for the visual existence of the figure over the revelation of personality. Owned first by prominent French collectors, it was purchased by George W. Vanderbilt in 1898, becoming one of the first paintings by Manet to enter an American collection."

Zurich and Frankfurt

With everything going on regarding my dissertation the past couple of months, I haven't had a chance until now to blog about my recent trip to Zurich, Switzerland and Frankfurt am Main, Germany. These may seem like surprising cities to have gone and visited, and I admit they weren't necessarily on the top of my list, but sometimes Fate has fun things in store for you. Airline miles? Free place to stay? Let's go! In fact, I set up this trip as a goal and reward for finishing the defense draft of the dissertation. I had it delivered to all my readers by Sun 2/24, I taught the next day, then hopped on a flight out of Newark Airport to Zurich. My friend AR lives there now courtesy of a job relocation, and my friend AA was already in Europe on business and planned to see AR in Zurich as well, so our convergence in Switzerland was beautifully timed, and we had a great trip together.

If I were to say anything in particular about Zurich or Switzerland itself, it would be how damned expensive it is. Seriously. A slice of chocolate cake and 2 espressos for $22? A 12" pizza and side salad with 2 cokes for $53? AR had warned us it was pricey, even in Swiss Francs, but we were stunned. Zurich itself was a lovely city, even if it was cold and wintry. I enjoyed walking along the river and lake, and stopping in little cafes for nibbles and treats. I did my obligatory art tour and visited the Kunsthaus, where I was impressed by some of the works on display by Fuseli, Holder, and Giacometti. We took a road trip to the Rhine Falls (Rheinfall); admittedly, not Niagara, but still impressive. We then traveled to St. Gallen and visited the Benedictine Abbey and Library. There was snow on the ground and it made the village very picturesque, indeed. I couldn't help but start singing "The hills are alive, with the Sound of Music!", and twirling in the snow...humiliating AA/AR in the process, of course. Naturally, we also stopped at an Ikea on the way home. AR lives in Seefeld, a delightful suburb in walking distance of downtown Zurich.

On the last day, AA and I took the train north to Frankfurt, where we did more site-seeing. We went to the Städel Museum to see the exhibition "Beauty and Revolution: Neoclassicism 1770-1820," which was right up my alley and related to my dissertation. We walked a lot through Frankfurt as well, including seeing the historic district. Frankfurt isn't much of a tourist city, definitely more a financial capital, but it was worth visiting as well (first visit to Germany!). We hopped on our flights back home the next morning. It was a fast trip, but it was a great few days out of town, and a wonderful time was spent just relaxing with close friends. Here are a couple of pictures from the trip, but you can see more from my Picasa album by clicking here.

Post-Dissertation Defense

On February 22, I posted about having finished the defense draft of my dissertation, with all its statistics. I'm pleased to announce that I had my actual defense yesterday, and I passed. (My friends and I did some imbibing last night to celebrate.) So, yes, you may now address me as "Dr. bklynbiblio"....uhm, I mean Dr. Ferrari. Well, actually, I'm not officially done yet. After a 2-hour discussion with my 4 readers, I have a number of changes and additions I need to work on in the dissertation, but fortunately there's nothing major. I hope to actually deposit the final draft in the next couple of weeks, and then it's graduation! It does seem strange that it was almost exactly 3 years ago that I took Oral Exams (see my Before and After posts), and here we are at the final stage. Upon hearing the news on Facebook of the outcome of my defense, my friend & colleague Carolyn Conroy wasted no time updating the "About Us" page of the Simeon Solomon Research Archive, adding my new title. Family members seem rather tickled by the idea that we finally have a doctor in the family. People keep asking me if I will use the "Dr" as part of my name, but I doubt it. American society sees "Dr" as a medical practitioner and to use it would give a false sense of who I am (in other words, I can't write out prescriptions). In the academic world, it's commonly used, but even then I have always preferred calling someone "Prof." In the UK, "Dr" is a noteworthy title for academics actually distinct from "Prof," higher in status than some professors in fact, so I can understand why it is used more frequently there. For me, I think Roberto C. Ferrari, Ph.D. looks rather chic and says exactly what I want it to say. And if you're wondering about the image above, it's Cupid Pursuing Psyche, a marble bas-relief from ca. 1840 by John Gibson (image: Royal Academy of Arts). Although I don't discuss this particular work in my dissertation, I thought it was a lovely example of his work to exemplify his achievements in sculpture.

Reviews: Other Oz Stories

Last weekend was St. Patrick's Day, and even though I did nothing Irish (well, I did imbibe a few cocktails), I had a rather "green"-faced weekend. On the Saturday night, I got together with my friends JM and DC to see Oz the Great and Powerful. Now, I should explain that going to the movies in NYC is a bit of an investment: $15 to be exact, for one person. So I'm rather cheap and get very selective about what movies I will see in the theater. This was one that I thought would be fun and worth seeing on the big screen. It's now been the #1 at the box office for a few weeks now, and you can see it in digital projection, IMAX, and 3D formats (which of course cost even more). We stuck with basic digital projection. And it was fine. I mean, even the movie was fine. In other words, it wasn't as great as I thought it would be. Maybe I had high expectations. It wasn't bad though. The first half was a bit hokey; the second half had more action and kept you going. James Franco is adorable as the fallible con-artist Oz who inadvertently falls into Oz during a tornado and winds up leading a rebellion. (Side note on Franco: I love-envy-hate him now that he's an actor-writer-artist-activist-model-filmmaker-anythinghislittleheartdesiresperformer). Rachel Weisz is one of my favorite actresses. Michelle Williams is quirky as Glinda. Mila Kunis...how is it possible that someone that sexy has such a whiny voice that every time I see her I cannot help but envision her cartoon role of Meg from Family Guy? In any case, the movie's overall story is fine, special effects and computer animation a bit over-the-top, but enjoyable nonetheless. It's an alternative, prequel to the Dorothy Gale story, and you see where the story is going based on how this movie ends. Disney's website for the movie is actually pretty sleek, with a neat 3D effect that is quite cool.

The surprise of the weekend, however, was that on Sunday I (finally!) got to see Wicked on Broadway. I was meeting my friend BC and one of his friends, who were visiting from TX, and I had no idea they were getting tickets for a matinee. I literally got out of the subway and met up with them having just bought the tickets from someone outside the box office, with less than 2 minutes to spare before the show started. (And since they got the tickets last-minute, they paid almost nothing, and they wound up treating me, which was a delightful surprise.) Now, I realize this show has been around for a while and traveling, so I'm probably one of the last gay men to see it. Regardless, I loved it! (Like that's a surprise.) I had read Gregory Maguire's book Wicked years ago, and I did not like it. The musical version is exactly what his novel should have been, a revision of the story of the witches of Oz, but one that entertained you, not bored you. Elphaba, the green-skinned witch, is a social outcast, and anyone who has ever felt different and struggled with fitting in (can you say gay?) knows first-hand why her story is so moving. For me, what makes it even more moving is her fight to help the animals who are being forced to suppress their ability to talk through rather cruel tortures. There's friendship, love and romance, magic, and comedy (Galinda--"The 'a' is silent!"--is hilarious). I now can see how and why Kristin Chenoweth as Glinda and Idina Menzel as Elphaba were such a fabulous team in the original Broadway production. In the version I saw, the same roles were performed by Alli Mauzey and Willemijn Verkaik, and they both did admirable jobs. And then there's the musical numbers...

The score is performed throughout the show, and it pushes the storyline along very quickly as a result, making it easy to enjoy. In that sense, it's perfect for modern audiences who are used to non-stop Internet gadgets and televisions with 10,000 channel options to flick through. It's not an easy musical score, however. There are dissonant harmonies and difficult passages for singing at times. I could definitely hear the influence of Stephen Sondheim on Stephen Schwartz (music and lyrics). Everyone would agree that the most powerful and moving song of the show is "Defying Gravity," the song in which Elphaba makes the final decision to become "wicked," for a good cause, and in the process learns to fly (hence the scene shot seen here). "Defying Gravity" takes on the double meaning of fighting for your dreams, so it's also a powerful song for those who believe in fighting for a cause and standing up for what you believe in. The song ends Act I, which I have to confess confused me because it's so powerful I thought the show was over. As a result, Act II seems a bit of a let-down, but that's of course the act in which everything "Dorothy Gale"-related happens, leading up to some surprising plot twists toward the end, so it's definitely worth staying around for Act II. My other favorite song was in that act as well. This was "For Good," a ballad on friendship between Elphaba and Glinda. I confess it made me cry. It has one of the most beautifully simple lines: "Because I knew you, I have been changed for good." (To a couple of my dearest friends--you know who you are--I send that sentiment out to you.) Yes, without a doubt, I would definitely see Wicked again.

MWA: 1 to 10

Ever since I last posted about the defense draft of my dissertation, I've been more busy than I expected, mostly with positive things, but some unexpected negative things too. C'est la vie! In any case, I'm hoping to get back to bklynbiblio and post a few new things, and I thought I would start with something different about the Monthly Work of Art. I first started this feature a year ago, in which each month I posted an image of a work of art by an artist and wrote about it or quoted from others who have written about it. I thought I would give a brief recap of the first 10 MWAs, especially since I realized that I've forgotten some of what I've posted over the past year. In parentheses after each work is the number of page views each has gotten to date. The title of each work is hyperlinked to the original post where you can read more about the art object. Enjoy, and stay tuned for future MWAs!

I. Paul Cézanne, Tulips in a Vase, 1888-90 (94 views)
II. The Good Shepherd, late 3rd century (320 views)
III. Meera Thompson, Capriccio, 2012 (62 views)
IV. Leonardo da Vinci, Ginevra de' Benci, ca. 1474-78 (45 views)
V. Gustav Klimt, Adele Bloch-Bauer I, 1907 (52 views)
VI. Charles Demuth, After Sir Christopher Wren, 1920 (26 views)
VII. Isamu Noguchi, Core (Cored Sculpture), 1978 (51 views)
VIII. Francisco Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, from Los Caprichos, 1797-98 (83 views)
IX. Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait Dedicated to Leon Trotsky, 1937 (37 views)
X. Lorenzo Lotto, The Nativity, 1523 (21 views)

Defense Draft of the Doctoral Dissertation

As I've mentioned, I haven't been blogging because I've been a bit inundated with the looming deadline to complete the defense draft of my doctoral dissertation. Amazingly, it looks like I've done it. I worked from 5am until 10:30pm tonight running through the entire thing one last time, and then printing everything out. Ready for the stats?...(drum roll)...3 years, 316 pages (including 26-page bibliography), 745 footnotes, and 126 images. Whew! And now it's 33 days until Dissertation Defense Day. Ah, yes, and in case you're wondering, here's the title: Beyond Polychromy: John Gibson, the Roman School of Sculpture, and the Modern Classical Body.

CAA 2013 Recap

The annual College Art Association conference is still taking place this week. However, I'm thoroughly engrossed in finishing up my dissertation, so I just went today and heard a number of papers, some quite interesting. (Click here for the recap from Los Angeles last year.) The painting you see here is a portrait of the Countess of Charolais (1695-1758) dressed as a Franciscan friar, painted by the Rococo artist Charles-Joseph Natoire (image: Wikimedia Commons). This was the subject of a paper given by Melissa Percival (Univ Exeter) that I thought made some fascinating points. The Countess was notorious in 18th-century France for her romantic liaisons, but refused to marry, so she was seen as a rebel bucking tradition. This is just one of a number of portraits that depict her wearing a friar's monk, called in French "en Cordelier," referring to the knotted cord associated with the friars. What makes this portrait different from others showing her dressed as a friar is that this one plays out a balance of masculine and feminine traits, as if suggesting her more sexually aggressive sensibilities and anti-traditional attitudes. The knot itself is suggestive of the bonds of sexual union, and the way she holds it suggests a phallic symbol, reinforced by the phallic spoon in the cup of cocoa. These are all Percival's thoughts on the portrait. What made her talk more interesting was that she suggested it would be too easy to assume transgender roles were at play here. Dressing up in costumes was normal for 18th-century French aristocrats, and priest/nun costumes were quite popular. Percival suggests then that we shouldn't leap to conclusions about cross-gender appropriation just because she's dressed as a friar in these numerous paintings; rather, it is this particular painting that is unique of them all, in that it has symbols that say more about her sexual interests, and as such was likely meant for private consumption than public display. In looking up more about the Countess, I couldn't help but chuckle to find out that she was buried in a convent for Carmelite nuns.

Percival's paper was part of an open panel session on French Art, 1715-1789. Judy Sund (Queens/Graduate Center--one of my favorite ex-professors) gave a great paper entitled "The Chinese Elephant: Unpacking an Improbable Pachyderm," in which she explored the image of the white elephant seen in Chinoiserie designs from the late 17th- and early 18th-century. She argued that there was a greater absorption of Siamese/Thai culture than previously understood or thought, in the general misconstruing of what "China" actually meant at that time. Ultimately she argued for the broader sensibility of exoticism as a world of fantastic recreations rather than reality. My colleague David Pullins (Harvard), whom I met in 2011 at the Artist's Studio in Britain workshop (see my blog posts here, here, here, and here), gave a well-researched paper on the 18th-century French printmaker Gabriel Huquier (1695-1772). I didn't hear the other papers on the panel, but it was chaired by Colin Bailey (Frick Collection), whose own paper on Fragonard's Progress of Love series at the Frick I wrote about in the 2011 CAA recap.

My friend and fellow GCer Jennifer Favorite gave a paper entitled "Creative Time in the Age of Bush: The Public Art Institution as Agent of Political Response" in a panel session on Art and "The War on Terror": Ten Years On. The room was packed with people at this panel session, so I really had a difficult time hearing her paper, which I regret, although I don't think I know any of the artists whose works she showed (maybe too contemporary for me!). The other panel session I went to was For and Against Homoeroticism: Artists, Authors, and the Love that Dare Not Speak Its Name, which was co-chaired by my friend Jongwoo Jeremy Kim (Univ Louisville) and colleague Christopher Reed (Penn State)--whom you may recall I worked with back in 2010 in Montreal at the British Queer History conference. My colleague and friend Richard Kaye (Hunter/GC) gave a paper on 20th-century interpretations of St. Sebastian imagery, and I really liked what he covered with regard to Frida Kahlo and the idea of how women artists appropriate this male homoerotic icon. Andrew Stephenson (Univ East London) spoke about "beach" culture and gay poses in the paintings of Christopher Wood (in Cornwall) and David Hockney (in southern California). The paper by Michael Yonan (Univ Missouri-Columbia), entitled "Outing Franz Xaver Messerschmidt, or Ernst Kris's Creative Homophobia" was an interesting presentation about a mid-20th-century psychoanalytic art paper about the late 18th-century sculptor's physiognomic busts and how they supposedly represented the sculptor's suppressed homosexuality. Messerschmidt really was an amazing sculptor, as you can tell from the bust you see here (fondly titled Afflicted with Constipation; image: Neue Galerie). The 2010-11 exhibition on him was superb! Yonan's paper was less about Messerschmidt, however, and more about Kris, with Yonan arguing that the art historian, from Vienna, had to prove himself to the Freudians working in post-WWII American academia, so he purposely modeled his scholarship on Sigmund Freud's essay on Leonardo da Vinci, in which Freud psychoanalyzed Leonardo as a latent homosexual. I wish Yonan had gone a little further with all of this, including exploring how it differed from Kris's other writings, but perhaps all will be revealed in a future publication. That's all the papers I heard today, but I also did some socializing and networking, which is really what these conferences are all about.

MWA XII: Gibson's Cupid

For the 12th Monthly Work of Art, I thought I would share a sculpture that ties in well with Valentine's Day, but more importantly also relates to my doctoral dissertation: Cupid Disguised as a Shepherd Boy by John Gibson (1790-1866). This statue was Gibson's most popular subject, with at least 9 known repetitions commissioned in marble by patrons who visited his studio in Rome. All of the versions measure about 51½ in. (131 cm) in height. In our modernist art world, we have a tendency to think of works of art as one-of-a-kind objects, with importance placed on the "first" painting or sculpture, and later copies considered less valuable than the original. For centuries, however, it was just the opposite. Reproduction was key to an artist's success. It was normal for an artist to create a subject and then make replicas of it for patrons as requested. This is one of the reasons why most artists had large studios: apprentices and studio assistants assisted in the reproduction of paintings and sculptures for patrons. Once we understand this was normal procedure for the marketing of art in the past, it's rather intriguing to realize that Gibson's statue, having been reproduced 9 times, was not only one of his most popular subjects, but in fact one of the most popular statues ever made during the 19th century. (And this doesn't include plaster versions that were on display in his Roman studio and at the Hall of Modern Sculpture at the Crystal Palace in Sydenham Park in London.)

Gibson first began modeling the subject around 1830, and it was his belief that it was an original interpretation in sculpture, although modeled on ancient Greco-Roman representations of the god of love. He was directly inspired by Torquato Tasso's pastoral comedy Aminta (1573), in which Cupid appears disguised as a shepherd so that he may use his arrows to play with the hearts of the nymph Silvia and the youth Aminta without anyone recognizing him. The figure merges classical idealism with 19th-century taste for sentimental subjects, although aspects of theatricality are evident as the figure wears a costume to hide his identity. Dressed in a shepherd’s hat and cloak, the tips of his wings slightly visible below the mantle, Cupid’s mischievous nature is masked by a seemingly kind gesture. He hides behind him in his left hand what Gibson described as his “heart-piercing dart,” but reaches out with his right hand “to inspire confidence,” assuming “that air of modesty and timidity to conceal the more his cunning designs.” Some repetitions of the statue have Cupid holding a rose, but others such as the ones shown here have him reaching out with an empty hand.


The 2 earliest versions of the statue were commissioned in the mid-1830s by Sir Robert Peel, Prime Minister, and the baronet Sir John Johnstone of Hackness Hall in Yorkshire, and both of those statues are now in private collections. The statue you see here on the left was commissioned in 1836 by the American artist and writer Thomas Gold Appleton, who later donated it to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The image in color you see at the top of this post was commissioned from Gibson by the Russian Crown Prince (later Czar Alexander II) when he visited Rome in January 1839. That version is now in the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia. Another version commissioned in the early 1840s is currently in the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool, but the remaining versions are untraced.

MWA XI: West's Wolfe

Better late than never with our Monthly Work of Art! Since I started teaching another semester of 19th-century European art this past Monday, I thought I'd share Benjamin West's The Death of General Wolfe, 1770, approx. 5 x 7 ft., in the collection of the National Gallery of Canada. Although historians of American art likes to claim West for themselves, I'm among those who think of him as a British artist. He was born in the British colony of Pennsylvania in 1738, eventually traveled to Rome for some artistic training, but made his career in London, where he died in 1820. He was elected the 2nd President of the Royal Academy of Arts after Sir Joshua Reynolds died. I always start this lecture class off with a discussion of history painting, i.e. large-scale narrative subjects showing heroic acts and events that taught viewers a moral lesson (or as Robert Rosenblum dubbed it, an exemplum virtutis). History painting was considered the highest achievement in the hierarchy of painting styles from the Renaissance through at least the mid- to late 1800s. West's painting depicts the end of the Seven Years' War between England and France, which was fought on Canadian soil. General Wolfe was mortally wounded in 1759, and on his death bed he was brought word that they had beat the French. Wolfe was proclaimed a national hero in Britain, and numerous artists depicted him in art apotheosizing him as an allegorical figure from the past. West broke with tradition and chose to represent the scene with Wolfe and his soldiers wearing contemporary military clothing, which was unheard of at the time. Reynolds and others blasted West for this radical move, but when the painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1771 it was a sensational success with the people. Prints were made of it, and it secured West's reputation.

Although he broke new ground by depicting a contemporary war scene with a journalistic eye for detail, in fact the entire scene was made up. None of the portraits of the famous soldiers who surround West in the painting were there when he died, nor was a Native American present either. More importantly, though, West still conveyed the ideology of the exemplum virtutis by turning the death of Wolfe into a "Lamentation of the Dead Christ" scene, a recurring image in hundreds of Renaissance and Baroque paintings that viewers would have recognized immediately. (If you count the soldiers, you will discover there are 12 "Apostles" surrounding the Dying Christ-like Wolfe.) West also exoticized the scene by drawing on his American background in depicting a Native American in the foreground of the painting. But even this was an imaginary moment, for West modeled this figure on the famous Belvedere Torso, seen here, an ancient Hellenistic sculptural fragment that was famous among artists and frequently copied by them when they visited the Vatican Museums. By drawing on these visual tropes from art history, West was able to craft an important history painting using traditional methods, yet he simultaneously revitalized the art of history painting itself by offering viewers a modern twist on an old classic style.

400 Posts and Happy 2013!

bklynbiblio has reached its 400th post! We made it to 300 back in May 2011, so it has taken a while to get to this one, but I think you'll agree that this is still quite a milestone. It also conveniently times well with our annual New Year's Day post, so what better way to kick off 2013 and celebrate 400 posts then with a lovely champagne toast!

Each new year I modify the look of bklynbiblio, but I'm leaving it alone this time as I actually like the look. And now for some statistics. Blogger software has been keeping stats since our little blog was launched in August 2008, so here are a few I thought you might find of interest. We have had 42,301 page views, which works out to be about 830 page views per month. Almost half of those views have come from US Internet addresses, with the UK, Germany, Canada, and Russia (!) next on the list. 76% have been Windows users, with Mac users only at 14%. Here's my favorite part--the most frequently visited posts--and the top 2 and #5 remain the same! (#1 certainly isn't much of a surprise, but what is going on with #3?)
#1. Male Enhancement [July 5, 2010; 1391 views]
#2. Review: Yinka Shonibare MBE [Sep 6, 2009; 881 views]
#3. Happy 3rd Birthday! [Aug 29, 2011; 420 views]
#4. Is It Baroque, and Do We Fix It? [Aug 7, 2011; 368 views]
#5. 50 UK Days: Week 2.5 [Oct 28, 2010; 317 views]
Among #s 6-10 are my posts on Downton Abbey and my review of the Cindy Sherman exhibition.

My thanks as always to all of my readers for your continued support and encouragement. Here's to the next 100 posts!

MWA X: Lotto's Nativity

What better way to celebrate the holidays then with another beautiful Monthly Work of Art. This is The Nativity (image: NGA) by the Venetian Renaissance painter Lorenzo Lotto (ca. 1480-ca. 1557). This oil on panel work is dated to 1523. Lotto is seen by some art historians as a proto-Mannerist, and this is evident in the way that he contorts the bodies, especially that of the Christ child. The shimmering blue/pink of Mary's garments and her elongated body are other signs of early Mannerism at work. You'll notice, however, something strange in the picture, and I don't mean the naked flying babies at the top. In the upper left there's a crucifix. Its presence is clearly anachronistic (Jesus was just born in the picture), but it serves to foreshadow for the viewer his eventual death and the establishment of the Christian faith. My memories of growing up in the Catholic Church were that they always put more weight on his death and resurrection. Personally, I preferred the stories of his birth. So in that spirit I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.