Archive for the Painting Category

La Maddalena, c. 1501

Posted in Painting with tags , on December 23, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Piero di Cosimo, St. Mary Magdalene, 1500-10

Galleria Borghese, Roma

This serene, studious and saintly Magdalene, attributed to the great Piero di Cosimo, has the look of a portrait from life.

Mysterious Mary

Posted in Painting with tags , on December 20, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Musee du Louvre

One of my favourite depictions of Mary Magdalene appears in this magnificent Deposition of c. 1480-1510 by the anonymous “Master of the Saint Bartholomew Altarpiece”, which also happens to be one of my all-time favourite paintings and a work that abundantly rewards contemplation. Like Carlo Crivelli’s Magdalene the figures in this tragedy appear in a shallow illusionistic space, like actors before a stage curtain. The appearance of such vivid anecdotal and naturalistic details in the simulated theater of the picture frame lend this scene a very startling sense of heightened reality. The Madgalene here is an ambiguous presence. Opulently dressed in chaste white, her beautiful young face shows genuine sorrow. With one hand she fondles the leg of the dead Christ while with the other she clutches and proffers her ripe bosom. One can’t help feeling the artist might be winking at us here, showing by the subtlety of his art a Magdalene both saucy and sad.

Maria Maddalena, c. 1480-87

Posted in Painting with tags , on December 19, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Maria Magdalena, c. 1480-87, Rijksmuseum
Carlo Crivelli’s sublime Magdalene stands in a simulated niche like a sculpture suddenly brought to life. The illusionistic tricks and embossed and gilded details are perfect examples of Crivelli’s individual melding of late Gothic and early Renaissance styles and techniques. This is the unredeemed Magdalene, gorgeously arrayed in damask and gold and still with a sly, appraising look in her eyes though she carries the jar of perfume (a gift from one of her admirers?) with which she will anoint the feet of Jesus. The painting resides in Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum and it is worth visiting the museum’s superb website to view Crivelli’s details in high resolution. The Magdalene’s hair, for example, is an extraordinary combination of naturalistic detail and formal pattern, quite unlike the conceptions of any other painter. This is the most exquisite Mary Magdalene I know, and the work of a unique artist.

Sonnet LIII

Posted in Painting, Poetry with tags , on December 18, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Alexander the Great and Campaspe in the Studio of Apelles, c. 1740

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Alexander the Great and Campaspe in the Studio of Apelles, c. 1740
The J. Paul Getty Museum

What is your ſubstance,whereof are you made,
That millions of ſtrange ſhaddowes on you tend?
Since euery one,hath euery one,one ſhade,
And you but one,can euery ſhaddow lend:
Deſcribe Adonis and the counterfet,
Is poorely immitated after you,
On Hellens cheeke all art of beautie ſet,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speake of the ſpring,and foyzon of the yeare,
The one doth ſhaddow of your beautie ſhow,
The other as your bountie doth appeare,
And you in euery bleſſed ſhape we know.
     In all externall grace you haue ſome part,
     But you like none,none you for conſtant heart.

Text from the 1609 Quarto Version

Magdalena penitente, 1598-1602

Posted in Painting with tags , on December 17, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Magdalena penitente, 1598-1602, Capitoline Museum

Domenico Tintoretto, Magdalena penitente, 1598-1602
Musei Capitolini

The character of Mary Magdalene was a particular inspiration for generations of European painters who seemed to have found the opportunity to depict a beautiful, even alluring, woman in the context of Christian piety quite irresistible. There are many wonderful paintings of the Magdalene as imagined both before and after repentance and I will be posting many of them in the weeks ahead. Tintoretto’s version is particularly striking. Surrounded by Christian regalia and with hands clasped in prayer his Magdalene shows a face and figure that would not look out of place on a Hollywood movie poster of the 1950s. The artist has perhaps gone a little too far in emphasising the, ahem, fallen side of Mary’s nature and it is somewhat difficult to imagine that this image could ever have been an object of simple worship, but it is a wonderful performance whatever Tintoretto’s intentions may have been.

La mort de Maréchal Ney

Posted in Painting with tags , on December 7, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden
7 December 1815, 1868, Sheffield
Jean-Léon Gérôme, 7 décembre 1815, Neuf heures du matin, 1868
Sheffield City Art Gallery

Hendecasyllabics

Posted in Painting, Poetry with tags , on November 19, 2015 by Dylan Thomas Hayden

Léon Germain Pelouse, Banc de rochers à Concarneau, 1880

Léon Germain Pelouse, Banc de rochers à Concarneau, 1880
Musée des beaux-arts de Brest

In the month of the long decline of roses
I, beholding the summer dead before me,
Set my face to the sea and journeyed silent,
Gazing eagerly where above the sea-mark
Flame as fierce as the fervid eyes of lions
Half divided the eyelids of the sunset;
Till I heard as it were a noise of waters
Moving tremulous under feet of angels
Multitudinous, out of all the heavens;
Knew the fluttering wind, the fluttered foliage,
Shaken fitfully, full of sound and shadow;
And saw, trodden upon by noiseless angels,
Long mysterious reaches fed with moonlight,
Sweet sad straits in a soft subsiding channel,
Blown about by the lips of winds I knew not,
Winds not born in the north nor any quarter,
Winds not warm with the south nor any sunshine;
Heard between them a voice of exultation,
“Lo, the summer is dead, the sun is faded,
Even like as a leaf the year is withered,
All the fruits of the day from all her branches
Gathered, neither is any left to gather.
All the flowers are dead, the tender blossoms,
All are taken away; the season wasted,
Like an ember among the fallen ashes.
Now with light of the winter days, with moonlight,
Light of snow, and the bitter light of hoarfrost,
We bring flowers that fade not after autumn,
Pale white chaplets and crowns of latter seasons,
Fair false leaves (but the summer leaves were falser),
Woven under the eyes of stars and planets
When low light was upon the windy reaches
Where the flower of foam was blown, a lily
Dropt among the sonorous fruitless furrows
And green fields of the sea that make no pasture:
Since the winter begins, the weeping winter,
All whose flowers are tears, and round his temples
Iron blossom of frost is bound for ever.”

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