Art Eyewitness Book Review: Art: the Whole Story

 

Art: the Whole Story

                                   Edited by Stephen Farthing                                       Thames & Hudson/$29.95/576 pages

Reviewed by Ed Voves

In 2017, a study of the time spent by museum visitors, looking at paintings at the Art Institute of Chicago, computed the average or mean time per work of art at 28.63 seconds. A similar 2001 study at the Metropolitan Museum of Art had calculated the duration of patron-painting interface at 27.2 seconds.

Before exulting at the increase of slightly under one and a half seconds, an additional finding of the 2017 study needs to be considered. Many of the 2017 "brief encounters" included precious time spent taking "selfies" in front of the paintings.

How much attention people devote to works of art is their own business.  Heaven knows, I've breezed by many a painting or sculpture myself. But I can't help thinking that art lovers would be well-advised to devote some serious time to reading Art: the Whole Story. After reflecting on the abundant wisdom in this beautiful, modestly-priced book, they might want to slow down a bit.

Originally published by Thames and Hudson in 2010, the new edition of Art: the Whole Story shows how well it has stood the test of time.

The basic premise of Art: the Whole Story is the selection of major works of art for close study. Both as singular masterpieces and as representative examples of the epochs during which they were created, these works rate as the "best of the best." A supporting gallery of "focal points" - significant details - provide insights for appreciating each of these landmarks of visual expression. 

                        Art: the Whole Story book page spread, showing                        the Amitabha Triad, Goryeo Dynasty of Korea, 14th century

When judiciously used to guide our perception, Art: the Whole Story is a powerful research tool and a template for stimulating awareness. The subtitle of the book, however, is cause for concern. Despite its merits, it is not "the whole story" or even the final word about the works of art it examines. 

The editorial team is well aware of the dangers of a "quick fix" approach to art. Noted art scholar, Richard Cork, writes:

There are no formulae available, no surefire ways of arriving at the requisite sense of alert, probing observation. Each encounter with a particular work of art demands its own singular approach ... Those who argue that audio guides are the answer, providing instant commentaries on a select number of exhibits should think again. How can you formulate an authentic response of your own when a voice, lodged intimately in the ear, is telling you precisely what to think?

The answer to that question is provided by enhancing the power of human perception. This is one of the primary aims of Art: the Whole Story.

Let's explore a case study of how the editorial team of Art: the Whole Story helps us to formulate "an authentic response" to famous works of art. 

In 1821, the British Museum purchased fragments of frescoes from the tomb of Nebamun, an official in the government of Amenhotep III (c.1390-1352 BC). Amenhotep's reign was the high point of ancient Egypt's New Kingdom. The fresco episode showing Nebamun and his tabby cat hunting in the marshes of the Nile is especially well-known and beloved.

     Unknown Artists, Inspecting the Fields for Nebamun, 1350 BC

A different, more prosaic scene was chosen for study in Art: the Whole Story. This shows the normal workday routines underway on the estate of Nebamun. At center, two chariots are being readied for use. One of the chariots is harnessed to a team of mules or onagers.

Detail of Nebamun fresco, showing chariot team of mules or onagers 

To the left, stands an elderly farm worker, standing before a white boundary marker. Unlike Nebamun, who appears in a very stylized fashion in the other fresco scenes, the aging man is portrayed "warts and all" or in his case "wispy beard and all."

             Detail of Nebamun fresco, showing elderly farm worker

Why would a lowly worker in the fields be depicted with lifelike individuality that was denied to a powerful official like Nebamun? Dr. Craig Staff, who wrote the commentary entry on this fresco, observes that "realistic details... would never have appeared in depictions of gods and pharaohs."

The old farmer was imbued with naturalistic detail which was neither needed nor desired in the depictions of Nebamun. It was this farmer's task to maintain the necessary order and harmony on the estate for Nebamun to achieve eternal life and a semi-godlike status. At least that was how Nebamun would have interpreted the proper functioning of social life. But to us, over three thousand years later, the quiet nobility of the aged farmer is the true subject of this fresco scene.

Our perceptions of great works of art change as our consciousness expands. We can see more, appreciate more, as we look further and search deeper.

This process, of course, is at work in the lives and the oeuvres of great artists.

Christian artists were charged with creating works which directed the viewer to look inward or heavenward. As a result, the art of Christendom for many centuries rejected attempts at naturalism. Russian art, following the lead of Christian Byzantium, persisted in depicting scenes from biblical history in an ethereal manner, as can be seen in this celebrated icon, painted by Andrei Rublev in 1410.

Here, three angels visiting Abraham were depicted in a way to induce a state of meditation and prayer rather than to recreate how the event might have looked many centuries earlier.

Andrei Rublev, Old Testament Trinity, 1410

By the time Rublev was painting the visit of the three angels to Abraham's encampment, artists in Italy and the Netherlands had launched the artistic revolution we now call the Renaissance. As a result, Rublev's masterwork looks anachronistic, almost primitive, by comparison. Yet, a similar jarring note was sounded when later Italian paintings struggled to reconcile religious values with the new pictorial naturalism.

A little over a century after Rublev's icon, Jacapo Pontormo painted a disturbing, perplexing view of the aftermath of the Crucifixion. Everything seems "wrong" about this picture when you see it displayed in an art textbook. The garish choice of colors, the off-center placement of Jesus' corpse, the dense tangle of the bodies of the mourners and disciples - appears out of "sync."

Jacapo Pontormo, Deposition from the Cross, 1525-1528

Appearances are deceiving. As the brilliant critique of the Deposition from the Cross by Ann Kay demonstrates, Pontormo's technique and perspective differed from Rublev. But both artists painted with the eye of faith.

The flamboyant pinks and blues of Pontormo's color palate were chosen so that the drama of the painting would stand out from the gloom of the church interior where it is displayed. Jesus is deliberately positioned away from the center point, thus heightening the sense of loss so graphically portrayed on the anguished faces of his mother, Mary, and his grieving followers.

Art: the Whole Story has a global reference point. Art from all points of the compass, from all cultures and epochs are included in this remarkable book. The same degree of insight and authority which the writers apply to Western artists is accorded to Asian, African and Oceanic art. 

Lakota "Exploit" Robe, c. 1800–1830

I especially appreciated the inclusion of Native American art in the shape of a Lakota Sioux "exploit" robe. This remarkable work, brought to Europe from the Great Plains of North America in the early 1800's, was featured in a great Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition in 2015.

An excellent example of the sensitive and perceptive treatment of non-Western art appears in the section of the book devoted to Rajput or Rajasthani painting from India.

Ustad Sahibdin, Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, c. 1690

Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, dating to around 1690, is the featured work of Rajput art. An incisive introduction notes how Hindu art continued to develop under the political control of the Mughal Empire during the 1600's. Rajput paintings integrated elements of influence from the Mughal court, while blending regional styles from across the vast subcontinent.

This wondrous work shows the blue-skinned Krishna protecting a village from the wrath of the Vedic good of thunder. Krishna holds Mount Govardhan above the heads of the villagers and their cattle herds. This myth is drawn from the ancient Indian text, the Bhagavita Purana, but it may also have served as an assertion of Hindu cultural independence from the authoritarian rule of the Mughal emperor, Aurangzeb (1618-1707).

What really appeals in Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan are the touching details of  humanity and the cycle of nature, the beautiful gopis waving Krishna on with their fly whisks, while a cow gives birth in the fields.

Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan (details), c. 1690

Art: the Whole Story seldom disappoints in its selection of specific works of art to analyze. I do wish that the book could have focused on at least one of the great U.S. artists who worked in America, Thomas Eakins or Winslow Homer, rather than working abroad like James McNeil Whistler. But that is a small matter, when compared with the otherwise expansive coverage and clarity of detail.

Perhaps a more controversial point is the fact that nearly a third of the book is devoted to art since 1900. Given the ever-growing complexity of modern art, the burgeoning forms of artistic media to be covered and the diversity of individual expressions, the decision to devote so much space to such a comparatively short period was understandable, indeed correct.

Paul Klee, Fish Magic, 1925

If some major modern artists are not accorded "star treatment" - Alberto Giacometti gets only a brief mention - others, like Paul Klee, receive their due. I was particularly impressed with the analysis of Henri Cartier-Bresson's 1932 photo of a man hopping over a puddle of water near the Gare St. Lazare train station in Paris. 

Life and art intersect in Cartier-Bresson's wonderful photo. The "decisive moment," as it came to be called, occurred when the French photographer poked his Leica camera through a gap in the fence to record this incredible instant.

Thousands of years ago, the "decisive moment" occurred when the first artist dabbed mineral pigment on a cave wall. The moment came again and again as Praxiteles, Michelangelo, Vermeer, Turner, et al, followed suit.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018)

Henri Cartier-Bresson's 1952 book, The Decisive Moment,

 with the photo Behind the Gare St. Lazare at left

The decisive moment comes as well every time art lovers commune with great art. Sometimes, as we mentioned earlier, the duration of the encounter is brief - 28.63 seconds. Hopefully, we will learn to savor the moment at least a few seconds longer. 

Thanks to the wise counsel and enlightening format of Art: the Whole Story, this "decisive" moment is readily at hand.

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Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved

 Art: the Whole Story book cover and image of page spread , courtesy of Thames and Hudson.

Introductory Image: Johannes Vermeer, The Kitchen Maid, c. 1658. Oil on canvas: 18 x 16 inches (45.5 x 41 cm)  Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Courtesy of Rijksmuseum.  https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/SK-A-2344

Unknown Artists, Inspecting the Fields for Nebamun, 1350 BC. Fresco: 18 1/8 x 42 1/8 inches (46 x 107 cm) British Museum, London. Courtesy of British Museum, Creative Commons.

Andrei Rublev, Old Testament Trinity, 1410. Tempera on wood: 56 x 45 inches (142 x 114 cm) State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tretyakov_Gallery#/media/File:Angelsatmamre-trinity-rublev-1410.jpg

Jacapo Pontormo, Deposition from the Cross, 1525-1528. Oil on canvas on wood panel: 123 1/4 × 75 5/8 inches (313 × 192 cm)  Barbadori Chapel, Church of Saint Felicita, Florence, Italy.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jacopo_Pontormo_-_Deposition_-_WGA18113_(cropped).jpg

Lakota "Exploit" Robe, c. 1800–1830, Central Plains artists. Native tanned leather, pigment, porcupine quills, 58 3/8 x 88 ¼ in. (148.3 x 224.2 cm) Musée du quai Branly, Paris. Gift of Chaplain Duparc (71.1886.17.1)

Ustad Sahibdin (Indian, c. 1601-1700) Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, c. 1690. Paint on Paper: 11 x 7 7/8 inches (28.5 x 20 cm) British Museum, London. Courtesy of British Museum, Creative Commons.

Paul Klee (Swiss, 1879-1940) Fish Magic,1925. Oil and watercolor on canvas on panel: 30 3/8 × 38 3/4 inches (77.2 × 98.4 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art # 1950-134-112 The Louise and Walter Arensberg Collection, 1950

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment (Simon & Schuster, 1952), p. 39-40.  Images shown are the 1932 photos, Behind the Gare St. Lazare, Place de l'Europe, Paris, France (left) and Allées du Prado, Marseille. 

Renaissance Masterpiece by Pontormo at The Getty Center

Pontormo: Miraculous Encounters

The Getty Center, Malibu, CA

February 5 - April 28, 2019

Reviewed by Ed Voves

William Blake had the habit of writing comments in his copy of Sir Joshua Reynolds' Discourses on Art (1798). Usually these remarks expressed his indignant disapproval of the great English portrait painter and president of the Royal Academy. But there were occasional pearls of wisdom in Blake's marginalia. In one of his rebukes of Sir Joshua's view of art history, Blake wrote:

Ages are all equal. But Genius is Always Above The Age.

Blake never visited Italy, though he was familiar with Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel frescoes through engravings. Thus, the visionary British artist never was able to appreciate art from the "age" which followed Michelangelo's great achievements or to study art by a "genius" who was in some ways a forebear of his own prophetic work.

The Italian Renaissance artist, in question, was Jacopo Pontormo (1494–1557). We are more fortunate than Blake because one of Pontormo's  greatest works, The Visitation, is the centerpiece of an exhibition which just opened at the Getty Museum in Malibu, California. This is the final stop for the exhibition which debuted at the Uffizi Galleries in Florence in the spring of 2018.

I saw the exhibit at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York last fall. It was a rare privilege to behold a masterpiece never before displayed in the United States.

Ed Voves (Photo 2018) 

Exhibition banner for the Pontormo exhibition at the Morgan Library & Museum

Languishing under the long shadow of Michelangelo, Pontormo was a Florentine painter of talent and intelligence. He suffered the further disadvantage of being an innovator of the controversial artistic techniques known as Maniera or Mannerism. Later art critics dismissed Mannerism as a pastiche of gimmicks, mind games and coy sensuality. A typical example of such denigration was made by Emilio Cecchi in 1956: 

Jacopo Pontormo was probably the greatest exponent of that group of esthetic heretics we call Mannerists, each of whom officiated with a ritual of his own.

Instead of being hailed as a successor to Leonardo and Michelangelo, Pontormo's reputation was in decline even before he died. As we shall see, the unveiling of The Visitation coincided with dramatic shifts in the political scene in Italy. In this new age, skilled courtiers were as much in demand as creators of genius.

This profoundly moving painting has recently been restored to its original glory after earlier, botched, attempts at conservation. The Visitation's American tour will hopefully lead to a reassessment of Pontormo and the era of Mannerism.

Pontormo's The Visitation was painted around 1528-1529. It has long been displayed in the Church of San Michele in Carmignano, a village near Florence.

Prior to creating this remarkable work, Pontormo had painted two earlier versions of the Visitation. One was a smaller oil on panel showing just two figures embracing, set against a darkened background. This was painted in 1514 and may have been a working model for the the full-scale fresco of the Visitation which he painted between 1514 to 1516 for a chapel in Florence. The fresco version is a magnificent work but very much in the tradition of Florentine painting stretching back to the 1400's. The Visitation of 1528-29, painted on wood panels, would be a very different - and revolutionary - work of art!

Jacopo Pontormo, The Visitation Fresco, Santissima Annunziata, Florence, 1514-1516

Pontormo had been trained in drawing or disegno by one of the masters of the trade, Andrea del Sarto. As befitted a Florentine artist of his era, Pontormo prepared a meticulous preparatory sketch for The Visitation of 1528. Amazingly, this drawing, which appears below, has survived.

For the first time ever, the first-draft and finished painting are united in an exhibition, enabling us to chart the changes in design which Pontormo made. It is noteworthy that the ancient column, appearing in the drawing, did not make the final version. Classical motifs, of any kind were discarded in the 1528-29 oil in favor of an intense, almost prison-like setting, which contributes to an overwhelming sense of  immediacy. 

                           

Jacopo Pontormo, Study for The Visitation, c.1528-1529

This oil painting on wood panels was created during a dark time in Italian history. Rome had just been brutally sacked by mercenaries of Emperor Charles V in 1527. The Republic of Florence was being threatened by the Medici, intent on restoring their rule, which indeed they did. Artillery bombardment, famine and plague brought the proud city to its knees in 1530 after a lengthy siege.

The Visitation  of 1528 is notable for the contrast of bright, unusual colors, the movement and interplay of draped bodies and unnerving, psychological insight. This was not the first time that Pontormo had exhibited his mastery of unconventional art techniques. And it was not the first time that he had painted this episode from Christian history.

The dazzling (verging on discordant) color scheme had featured in Pontormo's The Deposition from the Cross, painted shortly before he commenced work on The Visitation. But the chief point of similarity between The Deposition and The Visitation is the way that Pontormo uses the eyes of protagonists to draw viewers of the paintings into the action taking place. The beseeching eyes of the young men (possibly angels) carrying Christ's body in The Deposition and the transfixing stare of the two mysterious figures In The Visitation engage us to such an extraordinary extent that we become actors in the dramatic events recorded in "holy writ."

This is not a subjective interpretation of these works. Every aspect of Pontormo's paintings - color scheme, structural positioning, disregard of the rules of perspective - point to his intention to create an emotional event NOW rather than a depiction of THEN.

The Deposition reinforces this direct, personal invitation from Pontormo to join the ranks of the Christian faithful. He included his own face among the group of the devout, grieving disciples. Like the young men bearing Christ's body, Pontormo looks directly at the viewer, appealing to his or her belief. A preparatory sketch of this self-portrait is on view among the supporting art works in Miraculous Encounters.

Jacopo Pontormo, Self Portrait, c. 1526-1528

The event which Pontormo's painting of the embracing women celebrates is one of the most significant in Christian sacred history. The Visitation has psychological implications which extend across the course of Western art, as I noted in an earlier Art Witness essay.

In the Gospel of St. Luke (Chapter 1, verses 39-56), we read how Mary, pregnant with Jesus, has gone to visit her older cousin, Elizabeth. Against all expectations, Elizabeth is too expecting a child, the future St. John the Baptist. When she sees Mary, Elizabeth realizes that her younger cousin will give birth to the Messiah. Elizabeth becomes the first person to identify Jesus as redeemer of all humanity.

And it came to pass, that when Elizabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the infant leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost:  And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb

This glorious, hopeful event in sacred history reflected the mood of opinion in Florence at the time The Visitation was being painted. In 1527, the Florentines reasserted Republican rule, driving out the Medici faction. The vibrant, eye-catching colors reflected this upsurge of democratic feeling, although it should also be noted that Pontormo's patrons for this particular work were members of the Pinadori merchant family, whose specialty products included painting pigments.

Thanks to the magnificent restoration work by Daniele Rossi, we can properly appreciate the sheer brilliance of Pontormo's color scheme for the first time in centuries. Pontormo's palette matched the emotions of the Florentine citizens under the restored Republic.

  Jacopo Pontormo, Detail of The Visitation, after (top) & prior to restoration in 2013

In a master stroke of psychological insight, Pontormo placed surrogates or "body-doubles"" of Mary and Elizabeth, directly facing us. Their faces are blank canvases, waiting for our response to determine their expression. They are questioning the viewer - Pontormo, us - before they reveal their feelings.

What was Pontormo, a sensitive and intelligent citizen of Florence, thinking as he painted this magnificent work? Surely, he was aware of the daunting odds facing the Republic of Florence in its confrontation with the Medici, who enjoyed the military support of Emperor Charles V.

Pontormo's The Visitation can be interpreted in many ways, but the haunted thoughts and fears which cloud the mind of humanity is surely one of its major themes.

Ironically, it was the pre-restoration Visitation, tinged with candle smoke and suffocated by layers of varnish, that most accurately reflected the somber emotional atmosphere of Italy following the Medici's crushing of democracy in Florence in 1530.

Revolutions, especially cultural ones, cannot be reversed. The printing press could not be "uninvented." The voyages of Columbus and Magellan had proven the ancient Greek theory that the earth was round. The globe could not be pressed flat. If the Renaissance cruelly disappointed hopes for political and religious reform, individualism and independent thought could not be suppressed.

Pontormo was one of the greatest portrait painters of the 1500's. He brought the kind of psychological probing and sense of immediacy which we see in The Visitation to his portraits.  

Jacopo Pontormo, Portrait of a Halberdier (Franceso Guardi?),1529-1530

Two of Pontormo's portraits complement The Visitation in Miraculous Encounters at the Getty.  One of these is the Getty's own Portrait of a Halberdier. This is one of the signature Old Masters in the Getty collection. The well-armed protagonist of this painting has been identified by many scholars as Francesco Guardi, though some questions remain.     
         

          
Jacopo Pontormo, Portrait of a Man (Carlo Neroni), 1529-1530

The other portrait, which was also on display at the Morgan, is believed to be the Florentine cavalier, Carlo Neroni. Like Portrait of a Halberdier, it was painted very close in time to The Visitation and the subsequent siege and fall of Florence. Together, these are portraits of the "lost generation" of the Italian Renaissance. 

These young patriots, men of conviction, were not destined to secure victory for the Republic of  Florence. Political independence was crushed throughout Italy. The light of liberty was not to be rekindled until the 1860's by Garibaldi.

Fate was unkind to Jacopo Pontormo, as well. He spent much of his later life working on a fresco cycle for the main chapel and choir of the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence. It was a vast work, dealing with complicated theological themes much like the later work of Michelangelo. Pontormo died before finishing the fresco. It did not find favor with the ruling Medici, though it was completed by Pontormo's assistant, Agnolo Bronzino. The frescoes were painted over during the 1700's, a victim of the low opinion of Pontormo and Mannerism which would not be reversed until the twentieth century.

To return to William Blake's reflections, not all of the "ages" of art history are equal. Some artists of genius are held in low repute, their works gathering dust in museum store rooms. This is especially true of artists like Pontormo whose protagonists stare us down from the wood panels or pieces of canvas on which they are painted, challenging our preconceptions.

Truth will emerge from the shadows. It always does, though in Pontormo's case it took a long time to happen. But thanks to the splendid exhibit now at the Getty, we are able to have a "miraculous encounter" with this Renaissance Man whose true genius we are only now beginning to appreciate.


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Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                                                                           
Images courtesy of the  J. Paul Getty Trust 

Introductory Image:
Jacopo Pontormo (Italian: 1494-1557) The Visitation,  about 1528-1529.  Oil on wood panel: Unframed: 202 × 156 cm (79 1/2 × 61 7/16 in.) Accession No. EX.2019.1.6.  Parrocchia di San Michele Arcangelo a Carmignano (Prato). Repro Credit: Su concessione della Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti e  Paesaggio per la Città Metropolitana di Firenze e per le Province di  Pistoia e Prato. Photo © Antonio Quattrone, Florence

Ed Voves (Photo 2018) Exhibition banner for Pontormo: Miraculous Encounters, Autumn 2018, at the Morgan Library and Museum.

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian, 1494–1557) The Visitation, 1514-1516. Fresco: 392 cm x 337 cm (12.8 ft x 11 ft) Votive Chapel in Santissima Annunziata, Florence. Wikipedia images, The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian: 1494-1557) Study for The Visitation, about 1528-1529.  Black chalk, traces of white chalk, squared with red chalk:  Unframed: 47 × 34 cm (18 1/2 × 13 3/8 in.) Framed: 52.5 × 39.5 × 3 cm (20 11/16 × 15 9/16 × 1 3/16 in.) Accession No. EX.2019.1.5.  Image © Roberto Palermo / Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli  Uffizi / Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e del Turismo. All rights reserved.

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian, 1494-1557) Self Portrait, about 1526-1528. Red chalk on paper tinted with diluted red chalk:  Unframed: 15.5 × 10.7 cm (6 1/8 × 4 3/16 in.) Framed: 52.5 × 39.5 × 3 cm (20 11/16 × 15 9/16 × 1 3/16 in.) Accession No. EX.2019.1.3 Image © Roberto Palermo / Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi / Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e del Turismo. All rights reserved

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian, 1494–1557) The Visitation, 1528-1529 (Detail of painting following the restoration by Daniele Rossi in 2013).  Full credits appear above for the introductory image.

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian, 1494–1557) The Visitation, 1528-1529 (Detail of painting pre-restoration.). Oil on panel. 202 × 156 cm (79.5 × 61.4 in)  Church of San Francesco e Michele, Carmignano. Wikipedia images, The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. 

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian: 1494-1557) Portrait of a Halberdier (Franceso Guardi?),1529-1530. Oil or oil and tempera on panel, transferred to canvas: 95.3 × 73 cm (37 1/2 × 28 3/4 in.) Object No. 89 PA 49. The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

Jacopo Pontormo (Italian: 1494-1557) Portrait of a Man (Carlo Neroni), 1529-1530. Oil on panel:  Unframed: 92.1 × 73 cm (36 1/4 × 28 3/4 in.) Accession No. EX.2019.1.1.  Collection of Mr. and Mrs. J. Tomilson Hill. Image courtesy Shepherd Conservation, London

Art Eyewitness Essay: A Visitation to Art - Reflections on Masterpieces by Sargent, French Classic Drawing and Della Robbia

Henry James and American Painting

June 9 - September 10, 2017

Poussin, Claude and French Drawing in the Classical Age

June 16 - October 15, 2017

By Ed Voves

You never know the direction that art will take you. Great art can lead us to make journeys of discovery that we are not aware of until much later. Sometimes, the act of recognition comes in dimly remembered dreams. On other occasions, art grabs our attention, snapping us wide awake.

Recently, a visit to the Morgan Library and Museum in New York spurred my thoughts from a painting set in Venice by John Singer Sargent to a French seventeenth century drawing to reflections on one of the great episodes of Christian history.

This incident, called the Visitation, is part of the "infancy narrative" in the gospel of St. Luke (Chapter 1, verses 39-56). Mary, bearing the unborn Jesus, journeys to see an older relative. Elizabeth, long the childless wife of Zachariah, is pregnant too. Her child will be the future St. John the Baptist.  

According to St. Luke, Mary had earlier been told by the Angel Gabriel that she will give birth to the Messiah - and that Elizabeth has received glad tidings as well.

And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God.

The Visitation is a key moment in Christian sacred history, depicted countless times in all manner of artistic media. Elizabeth, upon greeting Mary, realizes that her younger relative will give birth to the Messiah. Elizabeth is the first person to identify Jesus as redeemer of all humanity.

And it came to pass, that when Elizabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the infant leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost:  And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.

In addition to its religious implications, the Visitation happens to be a fascinating example of human nature in action. It is an encounter of youth and age, a meeting between women with different expectations and fears relating to the lives of their unborn infants. And possibly a degree of mutual rivalry might be lurking in the emotional mix too.

Human nature is very much in evidence in John Singer Sargent's painting on display at the Morgan's exhibit, Henry James and American Painting. Sargent's A Venetian Interior, painted between 1880 -1882, shows an encounter between two woman in the shabby interior of a once grand Venetian palace, the Palazzo Rezzonico. It is a secular version of the Visitation, featuring the interaction of a veiled  woman and a younger woman, who is clearly making an appraisal of her older compatriot.

Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2017), Detail of John Singer Sargent's A Venetian Interior, c.1880

What is going on here? The Venetian working class women used the hallway of the Palazzo Rezzonico to escape the fierce summer heat, string beads and have a chat. Sargent's studio was located on an upper level of the beleaguered building. We will never know what the veiled woman is saying or why the younger woman regards her so skeptically.

Sargent was not a religious painter in 1880. His controversial murals, Triumph of Religion, painted between 1890-1919 for the Boston Public Library, were a decade in the future. Yet there is an encounter taking place in this painting, as in depictions of the Visitation. The incredible shaft of sunlight pierces the gloom of the Palazzo Rezzonico just as beams of heavenly light streamed on to countless works of art with sacred themes.

I came close to missing the parallels between Sargent's painting and the Visitation. However, I was able to study a sketch showing the Visitation on view in another exhibit at the Morgan, Poussin, Claude, and French Drawing in the Classical Age.  

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of Laurent de La Hyre's The Visitation, ca.1645 

On the Morgan's gallery walls, The Visitation by Laurent de La Hyre (1606–1656) seems impressive but hardly a show-stopper. De La Hyre was highly influential in his day, but his overly didactic style works against the human drama of Mary's encounter with Elizabeth. A similar painted version of The Visitation by de La Hyre (not on view in the Morgan exhibit) undermines the power of the meeting to an even greater degree.

De La Hyre's Visitation sketch, on the other hand, gets more than just an honorable mention. Once we look past all the billowing drapery, the dynamics of human interaction once again take center stage.

The connection between Sargent's painting and de La Hyre's drawing is not obvious. Yet, de La Hyre's sketch helped me see that Sargent's painting also portrayed a dramatic encounter, a meeting of minds and spirits. And, as it turned out, I had recently seen two other representations of the Visitation that made the same point. 

Luca della Robbia, The Visitation, c. 1445

The centerpiece of the recent exhibition at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, Della Robbia: Sculpting with Color in Renaissance Florence was a magnificent nearly life-size depiction of the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth. This glazed terracotta statue group by Luca della Robbia was assembled from several interlocking parts which had been fired separately in the kiln, no mean feat as any ceramic artist will tell you.

Technical mastery aside, the real wonder is that Luca captured the spirit of the encounter. We see  the loveliness of the young Mary and the wonderment showing through the lines and wrinkles of Elizabeth's careworn face. There is something more, too.

Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2017), Details of Luca Della Robbia's The Visitation 

Look at Luca's Visitation for more than a moment or two and I think you will discern an element of doubt, of concern, of questioning in the eyes of Mary and of Elizabeth. These sentiments are elusive and intangible. Yet they make their presence felt.

And why not? Would Mary and Elizabeth not question the angelic revelations surrounding the improbable circumstances of both their pregnancies. A virgin giving birth? A barren old  woman with child? Would their instinct or "radar" not be sensitive to the possibility that what God decreed, other human beings might doubt? And what would Elizabeth think after realizing that Mary's son, rather than hers, was destined to be the "Lord."

There is a complicated tangle of emotions involved in the Visitation story. If I had to pick one word to describe the feelings of Mary and Elisabeth it would be "solemn." There is sense of solemnity in almost every artistic depiction of the Visitation. Joyfulness is there, but not unrestrained happiness. New life is waiting to be born - into a world of sorrows. 

With such thoughts in mind, I was not surprised to find that the best description of solemnity is in a book written by the brother of Henry James, whose interest in art supplies the theme of the Morgan's exhibit. In The Varieties of  Religious Experience, William James wrote:

A solemn state of mind is never crude or simple—it seems to contain a certain measure of its own opposite in solution. A solemn joy preserves a sort of bitter in its sweetness; a solemn sorrow is one to which we intimately consent.

The experience of birth involves pains that lead to new life. Mothers forget the pangs of child birth when they behold their infants. And with each new born child comes an opportunity to redeem this fallen world.                                                                                                                                  
One of the fascinating details I discovered while researching the Visitation, is that the choice of word to describe Elizabeth's relationship with Mary is the Greek term syngenis. This is often translated as "cousin," as in the King James Version. But a more correct translation is "relative" or "kin." As biblical scholars note, Mary and Elizabeth might have been distant relatives, even members of different tribes of Israel. The Visitation may have been an effort to heal the wounds of family divisions or estrangement.

The second artistic rendition of the Visitation comes from a surprising source, St. Michael and All Angels' Church in Haworth, Yorkshire. This is the Church of England parish church where Rev. Patrick Brontë was the "perpetual curate" or minister from 1820 to 1861. Here his novelist daughters, Charlotte, Emily and Ann, lived  and wrote immortal works including Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), St. Michael and All Angels' Church, Haworth, West Yorkshire

The current church was built between 1879 and 1881 after the Brontës had died. Only the tower remains of the church the Brontës knew and where all are buried, save for Anne. A set of magnificent High-Victorian stained glass windows grace the church, which my wife Anne and I visited this past spring. The Visitation is one of the scenes prominently displayed.

No one who looks closely at this stained glass depiction of the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth can deride it as an example of Victorian sentimentality. There is such a notable feeling of tension between the "cousins" that one might almost conclude that the artist was aware of the syngenis issue. The arms of the two women are stretched to form an embrace that is not reflected in the expression of their faces. 

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of The Visitation, St. Michael and All Angels' Church

Mary's probing eyes meet those of Elizabeth in an interval of suspended engagement. The stained glass scene of St. Michael's Church shows the moment of decision when human beings decide to love or not to love. We know the outcome to the Visitation story. Mary and Elizabeth do embrace. They do recognize the wonder of new life arising within their bodies.

Many people at moments like this cannot embrace the person opposite to them. They hang back, frozen in an act of judgment, like Sargent's young woman in the Palazzo Rezzonico.   
                          
As I researched the place of the Visitation in Western art, I came across the version of this biblical incident painted by Jacopo Pontormo (1494–1557). This Mannerist painter is no great favorite of mine but his rendering of the Visitation is a masterpiece.

Other depictions of the Visitation show servants in the background or Elizabeth's husband, Zachariah, off to the side. Here Pontormo has posed a young woman and an older women facing towards the viewer. They are focusing directly on us. Although these women are not graced with halos above their heads, they bear striking resemblance to Mary and Elizabeth. It is an uncanny  technique of drawing us into the moment of decision, to love or not to love.

Jacopo Pontormo, The Visitation, 1528-1529 (detail)

Pontormo would probably have identified these woman as servants. Yet, they serve no supporting role in this painting. The two woman, looking directly at us, are alter egos for Mary and Elizabeth. Their eyes meet ours and the wordless questions are asked.
Will we reach out to embrace the "other" person?  Will we cherish the gift of life they carry within themselves?

That is the message I derived from studying Sargent's A Venetian Interior and Laurent de La Hyre's compelling drawing of the Visitation. 

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of Laurent de La Hyre's The Visitation, ca. 1645 

Such thoughts were far from my mind when I walked through the door of the Morgan intent upon learning about  the artistic circle of Henry James and French art of "le grand siecle."   
                                            
Man proposes. God disposes. 

As I said at the beginning of this essay, great art can direct us on journeys of discovery over which we have little or no control. But once we get to where we're going, then a pattern of meaning will almost magically appear.The invisible walls which once barred our way crumble, letting the light of spirit stream in.                                                                                                                                       
***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved 

Images courtesy of the  Morgan Library and Museum, the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. and Anne Lloyd

Introductory and Leading Images: 
Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of John Singer Sargent's  A Venetian Interior, c.1880 - 1882. Oil on canvas.  60.7 x 49.8 cm Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA                       

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of Laurent de La Hyre's The Visitation, ca. 1645, black chalk and gray wash. The Morgan Library & Museum; Bequest of Ethylene Seligman; 1994.4

Luca della Robbia (Italian, 1399/1400-1482) The Visitation, c. 1445. Glazed terracotta. 151 x 148 x 60 cm (59 7/16 x 58 1/4 x 23 5/8 in.) Church of San Giovanni Fuorcivitas, Pistoia. Displayed  by the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., Feb. 5–June 4, 2017


Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2017), Details of The Luca Della Robbia's The Visitation.

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), St. Michael and All Angels' Church, Haworth, West Yorkshire

Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2017), Detail of Stained Glass Window (c. 1879-1881) of St. Michael and All Angels' Church, Haworth, West Yorkshire. 

Jacopo Pontormo  (Italian, 1494–1557) The Visitation, 1528-1529 (Detail). Oil on panel. 202 × 156 cm (79.5 × 61.4 in) Church of San Francesco e Michele, Carmignano. Wikipedia images, The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing Gmb

Anne Lloyd (Photo 2017), Detail of Laurent de La Hyre's The Visitation, ca. 1645, black chalk and gray wash. The Morgan Library & Museum; Bequest of Ethylene Seligman; 1994.4