Art Eyewitness Essay: Art Books to Give and to Cherish

 Art Books to Give and to Cherish

Art Unpacked by Matthew Wilson (Thames & Hudson, 240 pages, $39.95) 

 The Real & the Romantic by Frances Spalding (Thames & Hudson, 384 p., $50)  

Velazquez by Richard Verdi (Thames & Hudson, 276 pages, $24.95)

By Ed Voves

The Morgan Library and Museum is currently showing a special exhibition devoted to rare editions of the Holy Bible collected by J.P. Morgan. While visiting the exhibit, my attention focused on a first edition copy of the 1611 King James Version (KJV) of the Holy Bible.

By a somewhat convoluted thought process, the sight of this original KJV led me to compile a short list of recommended art books, all published in 2023. These, as I hope to explain, are books worthy to give and to cherish. But before I discuss these four titles, I would like to reflect a few moments more on the 1611 KJV on display in Morgan’s Bibles.

The Morgan's copy of the KJV has quite a personal history. It bears a hand-written list of biblical commentaries by Laurence Chaderton, one of "God's secretaries" who worked on the translation of the Bible at the command of King James I. On the binding is the coat of arms of the Prince of Wales, denoting its ownership by the two sons of King James, Prince Henry and Charles I.

Ed Voves, Photo (2023) 

Gallery view of the Morgan Library & Museum’s copy of the 

King James Version Bible, at the Morgan’s Bible exhibition

It was the personal name, signed with a bold flourish at the bottom of the title page, which was the most intriguing feature of all: Jane Fisher.

Jane Fisher (1626-1689) was the courageous Englishwoman who helped Charles II escape capture following the defeat at the Battle of Worcester, 1651, during the English Civil War. Charles, disguised as Jane Fisher’s servant, evaded capture by Oliver Cromwell’s troops, eventually reaching safety.

In 1660, Charles II was restored to the throne of Great Britain. This magnificent KJV Bible, once owned by his father, should have been safeguarded as a sacred  relic. Yet, at some point, this Bible became a treasured possession of Jane Fisher. 

Did Charles II give this KJV Bible to Jane Fisher in appreciation for saving his life and his reign? If so, it could not have been a more appropriate gift. 

Viewing this historic Bible was a great treat, but my attention did not linger on the bygone-era of Stuart kings. Instead, it nudged me to think about the importance of giving books as tokens of love and esteem.

The act of bestowing a gift involves giving a part of oneself. The money needed to buy a present represents the hours spent earning or saving the necessary funds to make the purchase. And of course, there is the time and energy involved in shopping, often the most difficult and frustrating part of the transaction.

Selecting a book as a gift takes this process a step further. Along with sharing a bit of ourselves, we are entering into a state of emotional/intellectual dialog with the recipient. Is the subject or author likely to appeal to the intended reader? Might the book become a favorite "read"? Could the book make a difference in their life?

With these considerations in mind, here is a short-list of 2023 art books which hopefully will provide a resounding “yes”  to the questions above. None of the titles appearing below were the subject of previous Art Eyewitness reviews, although Martin Gayford's Venice: City of Pictures is certainly worthy of inclusion in any list of recent art books likely to stand the test of time.

My first selection includes works of art from just about every artistic genre and works from virtually every historical era and geographic locale. Art Unpacked, just published by Thames & Hudson, is precise in its focus, global in its scope.

Art Unpacked offers a "museum highlights" trajectory to appreciate art history. A list of fifty essential works of art is selected for study, beginning with a cave painting from Chauvet, ca. 30,000 BCE, and proceeding to contemporary works of art with social justice themes. Quite a number of the book's "highlights" will be familiar to many art enthusiasts.

At first glance, Art Unpacked appears to be a fairly standard survey of the visual arts. An impressive book, certainly, but one which we've seen previously in similar guises, the British Museum's History of the World in 100 Objects for one.

Look again at Art Unpacked - and again - at the double-spread pages of closely integrated illustrations and analysis for each of the selected works. The author, Matthew Wilson, has created a blue-print guide for understanding composition and construction, complemented with insights into the mindset and social milieu of the artist and acknowledgement of related works of art, ones that set the stage or were influenced in turn by the masterpiece under study.

The "star" treatment which Wilson accords Michelangelo's Studies for the Libyan Sibyl, 1510-11, is a excellent example of his methodology.

Michelangelo, Studies for the Libyan Sibyl, 1510-11

Aside from Mona Lisa, there is no work of art which has been so intensively studied as Michelangelo's frescoes for the Sistine Chapel. The same is true for the preliminary drafts, of which the Libyan Sibyl, a jewel of The Metropolitan Museum's collection, is one of the most familiar. 

Yet, there are so many intriguing details in this "densely populated" drawing that when we get the rare opportunity to view it, information overload quickly sets in. That is exactly what I experienced at The Met's 2017 exhibit, Michelangelo: Divine Designer, where the Libyan Sibyl drawing was prominently displayed.

With a precise focus, Wilson succinctly deals with the major points of the Libyan Sibyl's composition. He focuses, point by point, on Michelangelo's masterful handling of tonal modeling to create a three-dimensional presence for this ethereal figure. Michelangelo's vigorous use of red chalk to create deep shadows, Wilson notes is "often compared to the way that a sculptor carves into the marble with a chisel."

As if that was not impressive enough, Wilson looks at the truly fine points, leaving readers astonished that they had missed these details before. Examining the Libyan Sibyl's torso, Wilson writes:

Michelangelo added lines that extend from the shoulders and end in a circle. A third line points toward the armpit. It is not known for certain what they represent, but he may have added them as notes to himself about the lightest to the darkest areas of shading, or to point out certain muscles to students or colleagues.

Never, in a hundred years of looking, would I have spotted these minute notations, but Wilson's sharp eye has opened a new window on Michelangelo's creative course.

Wilson extends the same masterful mix of analytical precision and perceptive commentary to works of art from non-Western societies. Dating to the same era as Michelangelo's Libyan Sibyl are superb studies of the Queen Mother Pendant Mask from the Kingdom of Benin, modern Nigeria, and The Concourse of Birds, an allegory of the Sufi search for spiritual enlightenment, painted by Habiballah of Sava (active, 1590-1610 in Persia).

Queen Mother Pendant Mask, Kingdom of Benin, c. 

 Habiballah of Sava, The Concourse of Birds (detail), c. 1600

One historical era overlooked in Art Unpacked is the twenty-year interlude in England between the First and Second World Wars. Many, indeed most, general surveys of art skip over English art, especially painting, between 1919 to 1939. In the era of Picasso and Matisse, Dada and Surrealism, English art appeared to be hopelessly retardataire.

Francis Spalding, the leading authority of twentieth British art, has rectified the omission with a magnificent narrative history which is likely to stand as the definitive treatment of the subject for many years to come. 

A fitting estimate of Spalding's achievement world be to compare Real and Romantic with the first edition of John Rewald's History of Impression (1946).  Amazingly, there was waning interest in Monet, Renoir, et al., until Rewald's book revived their reputation in the years after World War II. Spalding's book will, almost certainly, have the same effect.

In a key quotation from The Real and the Romantic, Spalding notes that: 

Whereas the Italian futurists had wanted to turn their backs on the past, to abandon it or destroy it, much English art between the wars was motivated by a wholly different attitude, by a desire to raid the past for ideas, subjects and methods that would challenge and enrich the present. This took many forms, but behind them all can be heard an echo of Laurence Binyon's words..."We cannot discard the past ... we must remold it in the fire of our necessities, we must make it new and our own."

Of particular influence, especially in the immediate aftermath of World War I, was the English landscape tradition, not only Turner and Constable, but other artists from the 1700's and 1800's.

Algernon Newton (1880-1968) looked to Canaletto for inspiration. Others, including Graham Sutherland, found a role-model in the mystical landscape painter, Samuel Palmer. 

John Sell Cotman, Greta Bridge, c. 1805

Eric Ravilious, Wannock Dew Pond, 1923

Eric Ravilious, in many ways the signature artist of the era, was inspired by the watercolors of the almost forgotten John Sell Cottman. But the somber, haunted tone of the landscapes of Ravilious hinted at the specter of impending war and the almost inescapable feeling that the slaughter and destruction would be worse, much worse, the second time around.

It was. Ravilious was killed in 1942 in an air rescue mission off the coast of Iceland. It was a noble effort but an attempt which seems doomed from the start, so futile that one wonders how Ravilious and his fellow air-crew had the courage to try. But try they did and so did English artists during the "between the wars" period so movingly described by Spalding.

The two books, above, were carefully chosen and come highly recommended as gift ideas. It's no secret that art books are generally expensive, no small matter in the current economic crisis. Exhibition catalogs and and major art monographs are generally worth the investment. But size or price need not be the deciding factor in purchasing an art book as a gift.

Thames and Hudson has been the leading publisher of quality paperback art books for decades with its classic World of Art series. My third- and final - selection is a new addition to the World of Art list, a biography of Diego Velazquez (1599-1660) by Richard Verdi, who also wrote a superb study of Cezanne for the series. 

I was saddened to discover, while researching this essay, that the World of Art Velazquez will be the last book written by Richard Verdi.This notable scholar died on Christmas Day, 2022. According to his obituary, an advance copy of Velazquez was presented to Verdi, already hospitalized, the week before he died. An uncompleted manuscript of a biography of Peter Paul Rubens lay on his desk at home.

The death of a distinguished writer and teacher like Richard Verdi - he was for many years the director of the Barber Institute of Art in Birmingham, England - is a great loss. But the gift of his talent and devotion to culture remain after his passing, another reason to cherish the World of Art's Velasquez.

Anne Lloyd (Photo, 2023)

 Gallery view of Juan de Pareja, Afro-Hispanic Painter

Verdi did not live to see the Metropolitan Museum exhibition, Juan de Pareja, Afro-Hispanic Painter, which was presented in the spring of 2023. The breathtaking portrait of Pareja by Velazquez served as the centerpiece of this exhibition. Verdi's discussion of this truly iconic painting (it is also one of the works examined in Art Unpacked) shows how vital it is to preserve the voice of humane scholars like Verdi.

Juan de Pareja (1606-1680) was the son of a Moorish slave woman and, though born in Spain, remained a slave himself until 1650. The date was significant. Pareja was in Rome with Velazquez, at that time. Velazquez was vying for a commission to paint Pope Innocent X. To demonstrate his talent, Velazquez painted the portrait of Pareja, who had worked in his studio since 1630.

Anne Lloyd (Photo, 2023)

 Detail of Portrait of Juan de Pareja, by Diego Velazquez, 1650

Portrait of Juan de Pareja astonished the art community of Rome, then the most influential in Europe. The reputation of Velazquez soared and he went on to paint an impressive likeness of Pope Innocent. However, by a rare combination of factors  -  the alchemy of art - Portrait of Juan de Pareja was a superior work, greatly so in my estimation.

What happened? Verdi writes of this incomparable work of art:

The handling throughout is free, sketchy and even somewhat impulsive, as befits a picture intended as a dry run for a more prestigious commission, In short, this may be seen as both Velazquez and Pareja caught off guard - two cohorts engaged in a frank and intimate conversation.

There it is - "two cohorts." Two fellow human beings suddenly aware of each other's God-given talents and personalities. No longer master and slave, Spaniard or Moor, artist or assistant, they joined to create a masterpiece. In giving of themselves, both men gained much.

Juan de Pareja was emancipated by Diego Velazquez and went on to a successful painting career of his own. Velazquez became a Knight of Santiago, the trusted advisor of King Philip IV of Spain and, most importantly, the artist who would paint Las Meininas, the single greatest masterpiece in the canon of Western art.

And us? We have these wonderful books to read and to give, to share their sentiments, their brilliant insights to enjoy, to learn and live by. Or these three titles could be replaced by other books of your choosing with the same intention, the same desired effect. 

Ultimately, it is the giving rather than the gift, which counts. 

 

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved

Original photography by Anne Lloyd and Ed Voves, all rights reserved                  

Book cover art for Art Unpacked by Matthew Wilson (2023), The Real and the Romantic, English Art between Two World Wars by Frances Spalding (2023) and Velazquez by Richard Verdi (2023) Image credits: Thames & Hudson

Introductory image: Michelangelo’s Libyan Sibyl fresco from the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel. Image from https //commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sibila_Libica.jpg

Ed Voves, Photo (2023 ) Gallery view the Morgan Library & Museum’s copy of the King James Version (KJV), The Holy Bible, Conteyning the Old Testament and the New, Newly Translate Out of the Original Tongues. Published in London by Robert Barker, 1611. On view at the Morgan’s Bible exhibition.

Michelangelo (Italian, 1475-1564) Studies for the Libyan Sibyl, 1510-11. Red chalk drawing with accents of white chalk on the shoulder of the figure in the main study: 28.9 x 21.4 cm. (11 1/4 x 8 1/2 in.) Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Unknown artist (Present-day Nigeria) Queen Mother Pendant Mask, Kingdom of Benin, 16th century. Ivory sculpture, with iron and copper: 23.8 x 12.7 x 6.4 cm. (9 1/4 x 5 x 2 1/2 in.) Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Habiballah of Sava (Persian, active, 1590-1610) The Concourse of Birds, c. 1600. Ink, opaque watercolor, gold and silver on paper: 25.4 x 11.4 cm. (10 x 4 1/2 in.)  Metropolitan Museum of Art.

John Sell Cotman (British, 1782-1842) Greta Bridge, c. 1805. Watercolor over graphite sketch: 22.7 x 32.9 cm. (8.9 x 12.9 in.) British Museum.

Eric Ravilious (British, 1903-1942) Wannock Dew Pond, 1923. Watercolor, pen and brown ink over graphite sketch: 27.8 x 38.6 cm. (10.9 x 15.2 in.) British Museum.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023 ) Gallery view the Juan de Pareja, Afro-Hispanic Painter exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023 ) Diego Velazquez' Portrait of Juan de Pareja, 1650 (detail). Oil on canvas: 32 x 27 1/2 in. (81.3 x 69.9 cm.) Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Art Eyewitness Review: Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920

 

Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920

Chrysler Museum of Art, Feb. 12-May 16, 2021

Milwaukee Art Museum, June 11-Oct. 3, 2021

Reviewed by Ed Voves

In the late autumn of 1869, Thomas Eakins entered into the final stages of his four years of artistic study in France. Although it had been a productive apprenticeship, Eakins felt he needed something more to set the seal of complete success on his endeavor. Eakins planned a trip to one of the other European countries where he could examine the works of "Old Masters" he had not been able to study at the Louvre.

Eakins selected a surprising destination for his farewell tour of Europe - not Italy or the Netherlands nor Austria-Hungary or Great Britain. On November 29, 1869, Eakins boarded a south-bound train for Spain. 

Eakins' sojourn in Spain began a trend among aspiring American painters during the latter decades of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth. Now, an ambitious exhibition, jointly organized by Corey Piper, curator of the Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk, Virginia, and Brandon Ruud of the Milwaukee Art Museum, follows the footsteps of Eakins, Mary Cassatt, William Merritt Chase, Robert Henri, John Singer Sargent and Childe Hassam.

Gallery view of Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920             at the Chrysler Museum of Art. Photo by Ed Pollard

Spain, as we will discuss, was not an easy country to visit during the 1800's. During the crucial, final year of its preparation, Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920, often faced daunting obstacles as well.The outbreak of Covid-19, just as the curators of the two museums were finalizing plans to gather the 100 works of art and historical artifacts for display, put the experiences of these nineteenth century American artists in a novel, startling perspective.

Difficulty, tinged by a certain degree of danger (mostly imaginary), imparted a sense of adventure to journeys to Spain during the 1800's. For artists like Eakins, the great traditions of Spanish painting were the primary inducement to venture south from France. The astonishing realism of Velazquez and the ethereal spirituality of Murillo exposed American painters to new dimensions in art which were often lacking in the ateliers of Paris. 

Only few days after arriving in Spain, Eakins explained to his father in Philadelphia the nature of his revelatory experience in his new surroundings:

Since I am now here in Madrid I do not regret at all my coming. I have seen big painting here. When I had looked at all the paintings by all the masters I had known I could not help saying to myself all the time, its very pretty but its not all yet. It ought to be better, but now I have seen what I always thought ought to have been done and what did not seem to me impossible. O what a satisfaction it gave me to see the good Spanish work so good so strong so reasonable so free from every affectation. It stands out like nature itself.

Eakins, after studying major works by Velazquez at the Prado, quickly adapted to the influence of the Spanish Baroque master, notably his concentration on character, accentuated by dark, neutral tones in the background.

 

Thomas Eakins, James Carroll Beckwith (detail), 1904

This shift in technique is readily apparent in Eakins' portrait of fellow artist, James Beckwith, on view in the exhibition. Created in 1904, this masterful work shows how the lessons of Velazquez had been integrated into Eakin's methodology, shaping, yet not determining, his own mature style.

What Eakin's achieved, his fellow-countrymen aimed to rival. Yet, it was not artists alone who ventured to Spain from the United States. Americans of diverse backgrounds traveled to Spain intent on savoring that nation's reputation for romance, for social customs little affected by industrialism. Spain's rugged landscape was dotted by castles and, yes, windmills. Spanish towns and cities, especially Toledo and Seville, retained much of their medieval character into the twentieth century

These picturesque aspects of nineteenth century Spain came at a price - paid by the Spanish people. The staggering cost in human lives during the heroic war against the Napoleonic invasion, 1808-1814 was followed by a political betrayal of the very people of Spain who had resisted the French. Goya's unforgettable paintings and prints record this tragic conflict as no other works of art were to do of war before photography. 

William Merritt Chase, Spanish Peasant, 1881

Engraved by Frederick Juengling, 1883

The continuing harshness of daily life in Spain, the social and economic malaise which lingered for decades, can be seen in the face of the Spanish peasant, originally drawn by William Merritt Chase in 1881 and then engraved by Frederick Juengling two years later.

American ideas about Spain were initially shaped by a great writer, rather than an artist. The exhibition begins with artifacts related to Washington Irving's 1826 sojourn in Spain. Irving had been wandering around Europe, searching for inspiration, when an invitation reached him from Alexander Everett, the American Minister to Spain. Irving stayed three years, during which he visited - and for a time actually lived in - the famous Moorish palace, the Alhambra. Irving's romantic re-imaging of Spanish history, Tales of the Alhambra, was a huge hit with audiences in England and the United States.

Irving was a close friend of the Scottish painter, David Wilkie (1785-1841). Overshadowed today by J.M.W.Turner and John Constable, Wilkie was very popular during his day, especially for genre depictions of daily life. He painted a charming scene of Irving, immersed in a mighty tome in the Archives of Seville, the resulting information later to appear in his biography of Christopher Columbus. 

David Wilkie, Washington Irving in the Archives of Seville, 1828-29

For the purpose of the present exhibition, it is important to note that Wilkie's evocations of Spain were made into lithographs, appearing in Sir David Wilkie's Sketches, Spanish and Oriental, published in 1846.

 

   Joseph Nash, Lithographer 

                 Washington Irving Examining the Spanish Records                   in Sir David Wilkie's Sketches, Spanish and Oriental,1846

Lithographs, aimed at a mass audience, later followed by photographs as book illustrations, helped whet the appetite for paintings of Spain and all things Spanish. Also important were spectacular landscape paintings of Spain, part of the mid-nineteenth century mania for "sublime" views of the world. Gibraltar from Neutral Ground by Samuel Coleman (1832-1920) was aimed at an American audience reeling from the horror of the Civil War years.

Samuel Colman, Gibraltar from Neutral Ground, 1863-1866

Such works were the foundation for Eakins and those who followed him to Spain, hoping to gain experience and insights that would help launch their professional careers.

Eakins had just returned home when another intrepid Pennsylvania artist made her way to Spain. Mary Stevenson Cassatt's portraits and genre scenes of Spain are very different from her later Impressionist work. But the marks of budding genius are apparent. Cassatt's handling of lace, gold braid, pleated shirts and other details of texture almost obscure the human drama in Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter (1873). Almost, but not quite.

Mary Cassatt, Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter, 1873  

The panal is a honey comb dipped in a glass of water which is given to matadors before they pit their lives against their fearsome, horned, adversaries. The pro-offered drink and the fantastic regalia, however, are really secondary considerations in this remarkable painting. Cassatt has captured the human chemistry in the exchange, the machismo of the bull fighter and the coy sensuality of the young woman with brilliant effect.

Cassatt's achievement with Offering the Panel was not a matter of beginner's luck. This is confirmed by the discovery of a forgotten work which she executed during her time in Spain. Cassatt's  Spanish Girl Leaning on a Window Sill recently came to light in a private collection in Madrid, thanks to a Canadian art scholar, Betsy Boone. The exhibition in Norfolk and Milwaukee marks the first time that Cassatt's Spanish Girl appears in the United States.

Cassatt captured the passion and allure of the Spanish national character. Attempts by other American artists to dress family members or models in Spanish garb failed to achieve a similar effect. One American artist who did succeed evoking the Spanish identy, with its exotic "otherness" so different from the French, was Robert Henri (1865-1929).

Henri grew up in the American West when it was still open frontier. He nurtured a deep love of Spain that surely can be explained - at least in part - by the epic grandeur of the landscape of both countries. Likewise, the proud, touchy and mercurial nature of the Spanish found a kindred spirit in Americans from the "Wild" West, including Henri's own family. Henri's farther shot and killed a rival rancher in a classic range dispute over grazing rights!

Henri, famed for his Ashcan School urban realism, never tired of Spain. He visited Spain seven times between 1900 and 1926, on several occasions, leading a large group of his students on extended visits to Madrid, where he introduced them to the riches of the Prado.

Two of greatest works of Henri's Spanish oeuvre, Blind Singers (1912) and Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916) are on display. They are among the "show stoppers" in an exhibition rich in masterpieces and richer still in insight.

Robert Henri, Blind Singers, 1912

Robert Henri, Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916) 

These magnificent paintings by Henri and their counterparts by Cassatt, Chase and the other Americans in Spain succeeded because their true subject was the soul of Spain and of the Spanish people. However much these great artists approached Spanish themes in terms of stereotypes - bullfighters, flamenco dancers, humble water carriers with their burros - they ultimately found their way to depict individuals rather archetypes. 

What Henri wrote about Velazquez was true of himself, of Eakins, of Cassatt and the rest. 

I saw the Velazquez pictures. I was in the Gallery for hours, and then wandered the streets thinking much to the glory of Velazquez. His paintings were clear of all the tricks of the art of the Salons ... simple and direct about men rather than the incidents surrounding them. To me they were great compositions.  Each head or figure seemed to tell all the tragedy or comedy possible to man.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                             Americans in Spain exhibition images courtesy of the Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia, and the Milwaukee Art Museum.

Introductory Image:  Mary Cassatt, Spanish Girl Leaning on a Window Sill, ca. 1872. Oil on camvas: 24 3/8 in. (61.9 x 38.26 cm) Collection of  Manuel Piñanes  García-Olías, Madrid, Spain.

Gallery view of Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920 at the Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia. Photo by Ed Pollard.

Thomas Eakins (American, 1844-1917) James Carroll Beckwith, 1904. Oil on canvas: 83 3/8 x 48 1/8 inches. (211.77 x 122.24 cm) San Diego Museum of Art, gift of Mrs. Thomas Eakins, # 1937.30.

William Merritt Chase (American, 1849-1916) Spanish Peasant, 1881. Engraved by Frederick Juengling, 1883. From George Parsons Lathrop's Spanish Vistas. New York: Harper and Brothers. Wood engraving: 9  x 6 9/16 inches. (22.86 x 16.67 cm) Private Collection.

David Wilkie (Scottish, 1785-1841) Washington Irving in the Archives of Seville, 1828-29. Oil on canvas: 48 1/4 x 48 1/4 inches. (122.6  x 122.6 cm) New Walk Museum and Art Gallery, Leiscester (UK), purchased from Thomas McLean, 1890. L.F2.1890.0.0

Joseph Nash (British, 1808–1878), after David Wilkie. Washington Irving Examining the Spanish Records, from David Wilkie Sketches, Spanish & Oriental, 1846. Lithograph: 17 3/4 × 11 3/4 in. (45.09 × 29.85 cm).  Milwaukee Art Museum # M2019.106.1 Photo by John R. Glembin.

Samuel Colman (American, 1832-1920) Gibraltar from the Neutral Ground, ca.1863-66. Oil on canvas: 26 1/8 x 36 5/16 inches. (66.4 x 92.2 cm) Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT. Gallery Fund, 1901.35

Mary Cassatt (American, 1844-1926) Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter,1873. Oil on canvas: 39 5/8 x 33 1/2 inches. (100.6 x 85.1 cm) Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, acquired by Sterling and Francine Clark, 1947. #1955.1 

Robert Henri (1865-1929) Blind Singers, 1912. Oil on canvas: 33 1/4  x 41 1/4 inches. (84.45 x 104.6 cm) Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution. Gift of the Joseph H. Hirshhorn Foundation, 1966. #66.2434.

Robert Henri (1865-1929) Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916). Oil on canvas: 77 1/4  x 37 1/4 inches. (196.2 x 94.6 cm) St. Louis Art Museum. Museum Purchase. 841:1920

Art Eyewitness Book Review: A New Way of Seeing by Kelly Grovier

A New Way of Seeing: The History of Art in 57 Works 

by Kelly Grovier

 Thames & Hudson/$50/256 pages

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Book titles proclaiming the word "new" make me a bit apprehensive. "A New History." "A New Biography." "A New Vision." A new this, a new that.

Most of the time, these "new" books have very little that is trail-blazing, novel or inventive about them. Most are like the leftovers from yesterday's dinner, warmed-up with a dash or pepper or curry to make them taste differently.

Kelly Grovier's  A New Way of Seeing: the History of Art in 57 Works is NOT a rehash of museum favorites. Many of the masterpieces under discussion are indeed works you've seen a hundred times before. Grovier, however, approaches each from an unusual, almost subversive vantage point.  A "new" view is what is promised in this book and that is what is delivered.

Grovier's fresh insights come by way of what he calls "eye-hooks."

These eye-hooks are not the metallic kind that you screw into window frames in order to hang Christmas lights. For Grovier, an eye-hook is a "single detail, quality or feature" of an art work which engages the perception of the viewer. Once "hooked," we are enabled to understand the artist's meaning and to come to terms with the "strangeness" of art.

Grovier emphasizes the "strangeness" of art, quoting the late Robert Hughes in his classic book, The Shock of the New. The word is well-chosen. Art really is strange when you come to think of it, splashes of pigment bound by linseed oil on a piece of canvas or wood. Yet, these marks on a flat surface can move us to tears (of joy or sadness) and propel our thoughts to higher realities. And it is the eye-hook which snags us and reels us in for a journey of heart, soul and mind.

This theory is verified by fifty-seven examples of eye-hooks in action. Some are obvious, some obscure. Let's test Grovier's "new" way of seeing by focusing on the eye-hooks of two masterpieces from the seventeenth century.
  
In Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring, the lustrous ornament practically reaches out from the picture to grab our attention. It is a really big pearl, bigger in fact than first appears. Initially, we see only the glint of light on its surface. Our eyes have to adjust to appreciate its size. It's a whopper.
    

Johannes Vermeer, Detail of the earring in Girl with a Pearl Earring, 1665

The pearl earring is so big that there should be at least a hint of a thread visible, showing how it dangles from the girl's ear lobe.  Yet, there is none to be seen. In Grovier's view, the earring "levitates," becoming a magical token or talisman of life's enduring mystery.

Put simply, Vermeer didn't paint a pearl. He told our brains to go and fetch one for ourselves. That kind of visual dictation has the effect of transforming the canvas into a kind of stenography where generic gestures and simple markings no longer aspire to mimic the way the physical world actually looks, but rather to tease the imagination into creating in the mind's eye a more vibrant image than any brush can forge.

If Vermeer's pearl earring is an obvious eye-hook, its counterpart in Las Meninas is almost impossible to guess. Put to the test, I would have picked a different eye-hook, the mirror which reflects the faces of the parents of the princess, King Phillip IV of Spain and Queen Mariana. The princess or infanta is being groomed in the image of royalty.

That may be a plausible theory, but the crafty Diego Velázquez (1599-1660) placed a different eye-hook smack in the center of his masterpiece. Hidden in plain sight is a red earthenware jug being offered to the five-year old Infanta, Margaret Theresa, by one of the maids-of-honor. The small jug was called a búcaro. Fragrant spices were mixed with the clay before the jug was placed in the kiln to be fired. Later, these spices would flavor the water poured into it.

Diego Velázquez, Detail of Las Meninas, 1656.

How can we be sure that the búcaro is indeed the "eye-hook" in Las Meninas? Grovier's sharp eye noticed that the tip of Velázquez' paintbrush bears a dab of the same reddish brown color as the jug. That leads us to a second question. Why all the fuss over a little earthenware jug?

In a brilliant piece of detective work, Grovier discovered that the búcaro figured in a bizarre social custom. Instead of merely sipping the scented water from the jug, Spanish women nibbled the rim of the fired clay. This act of geophagy or "earth eating" was said to lighten the complexion. Grovier takes a different tack, quoting the poet, Lope de Vega, as evidence that chewing on the búcaro and ingesting the clay produced a hallucinogenic, "floaty" feeling. 

Was Velázquez trying to replicate this mind-altering state with the composition of Las Meninas? Grovier thinks so:

Like a bottle containing a genie, the búcaro is the locus around which the hazy hubbub of Las Meninas spins - a woozying scene of making and unmaking, of reality and reflections, comings and goings, whispers and shadows.

From these quotes, Grovier's writing skill is evident. He is an accomplished poet, as well as an art historian and editor of a literary journal devoted to nineteenth century Romanticism. Grovier's survey of contemporary art, Art since 1989, for the Thames and Hudson's World of Art series, was very impressive, leading me to have high expectations for this new book. I was not disappointed.

As noted, Grovier selected art works for consideration which are familiar for the most part, occasionally a bit too familiar. Over-all, this was a sensible selection criteria, providing new insights on works of art we mistakenly assumed had been analysed to the point of redundancy. 

Detail from the relief, Ashurbanipal Hunting Lions, 645-635 BC

I was delighted to see how Grovier skewered the blood-thirsty lion killing of the Assyrians, c. 645 BC. His eye-hook is a bas relief which shows a servant opening a cage to release a lion to be slaughtered in safety. No need to risk the hazards of actually hunting lions in the desert when you can kill them in comfort! Thus, the pretensions of the high and mighty Assyrians were punctured by the artist, who was likely a slave or hostage, and the irony escaped them! 

The other eye-hooks are well-chosen, too, and Grovier generally proves his conclusions.

Georges Seurat, Bathers at Asnières,1884

In the case of Georges Seurat's Bathers at Asnières,1884, by focusing on the factory smokestacks in the background, Grovier makes a very valid point about Impressionism. The more you study the paintings of the Impressionists or post-Impressionists, in the case of Seurat, the more you see smoke-belching railroad locomotives and industrial furnaces off in the distance.

Detail of Bathers at Asnières, 1884

Impressionism was art made in reaction to the Industrial Revolution. The bathers in Seurat's early masterpiece were mill hands, taking a Sunday dip in the river polluted by the factories where they worked the other six days of the week. 

Grovier's conclusions about the 230 ft. long embroidery depicting the Norman conquest of Anglo-Saxon England in 1066 are a matter of dispute. This could hardly be different as the Bayeux Tapestry is one of history's most mysterious works of art. 

Grovier follows the conventional script that William the Conqueror's half-brother, Bishop Odo of Bayeux, commissioned the vast medieval panorama. Odo took part in the Battle of Hastings, wielding a mace since clergymen were prohibited from using swords. The combative bishop appears riding a black stallion in the extreme right-hand of the scene from the Bayeux Tapestry below.

Detail of the Bayeux Tapestry, c. 1077

More recent scholarship contends that Count Eustace II of Boulogne was the patron of the work. Eustace had quarreled with Odo, a most unpleasant man like his half-brother, after the conquest. The tapestry was intended both as a peace-offering and as a reminder of the crucial role which Eustace had played in the Norman invasion of England. If this theory is true, then the intended eye-hook would have been the very prominent depiction of Eustace astride his warhorse, riding alongside Duke William at Hastings.

Instead, Grovier selected as his eye-hook the scene of the death of England's King Harold during the battle. Clutching an arrow in his eye, Harold falls and Anglo-Saxon England falls with him. 

Detail of King Harold with an arrow in his eye, Bayeux Tapestry, c. 1077

Close scrutiny of the embroidery has convinced many scholars that the Bayeux Tapestry was made by English needle-women, who were renowned for their skill during the Middle Ages. Could it be that the nobility of Harold, as he dies defending his homeland, was a subtle tribute by these English women for their hero king? If so Count Eustace and Bishop Odo, like the Assyrians with the lion hunt bas relief, missed the point.

Kelly Grovier, however, never misses a beat in this compelling book. His scholarship is authoritative and the caliber of his writing is first rate. Most notably, A New Way of Seeing helps the reader do exactly what the title promises, while enabling us to understand how the artists felt, believed  and saw at the time when these mighty works of art were created.

J. M. W. Turner, Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway, 1844

When we look at J.M.W. Turner's Rain, Steam, and Speed, we can grasp - without too much difficulty - the symbolical status of Turner's painting for the Industrial Revolution. Grovier's brilliant commentary on this iconic work enables us to appreciate how Turner, born in 1775, felt as the steam engine of change came rushing at him, full-blast.

Turrner placed a tiny, almost imperceptible, rabbit on the tracks, desperately racing for safety. With a couple of dabs of his paint brush, Turner illustrated the modern condition, a new way of looking at a world in constant flux. 

Detail of Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway, 1844

With his perceptive "eye-hooks" and poetic commentary, that is what Kelly Grovier does too.

***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved.

All images courtesy of Thames & Hudson. The picture of the opening of the lions' pen, 645-635 BC. from the relief, Ashurbanipal Hunting Lions, is courtesy of The British Museum's website.

Johannes Vermeer, Girl with a Pearl Earring c. 1665. Oil on canvas: 44.5 x 39 cm (17 ½ x 15 ⅜ in.) Mauritshuis, The Hague

Book cover:   Courtesy Thames & Hudson

Detail of the earring in Girl with a Pearl Earring.  Mauritshuis, The Hague

Diego Velázquez, Detail of Las Meninas, 1656. Oil on canvas: 318 x 276 cm (125 ⅛ 108 5/8 in.) Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid

Detail of the opening of the lions' pen, 645-635 BC. From the relief, Ashurbanipal Hunting Lions. Courtesy of The British Museum, London

Georges Seurat, Bathers at Asnières, 1884. Oil on canvas: 201 x 300 cm (79 ⅛ x 118 ⅛ in.) National Gallery, London


Detail of the factory chimney in the background of Bathers at Asnières, 1884. National Gallery, London

Detail of the Bayeux Tapestry, c. 1077 or after. Crewel embroidery on linen: total 50 x 100 cm (19 ⅝ x 275 ½ in.) Bayeux Museum, France


Detail of King Harold with an arrow in his eye, Bayeux Tapestry, c. 1077 or after.              Bayeux Museum, France

J. M. W. Turner, Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway, 1844, oil on canvas, 91 x 121.8 cm (35 ⅝ x 47 ⅞ in.) National Gallery, London


Detail showing the hare in Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway, 1844.      National Gallery, London