Jessica Crabtree

August 30, 1748: Birth of the French painter Jacques-Louis David

David was born to a privileged family of Parisian architects during the height of France’s ancien regime. He was expected to follow this profession, but his early education quickly revealed a strong proclivity for art and a heady temperament – both of which would define the course of his adult life.

His first art teacher was an old-school artist of the Rococo style who recognized David’s strong Classical sympathies and sent him to a colleague, Joseph-Marie Vien, who became David’s long-time mentor. Under his tutelage, David attended the Royal Academy (part of what is today the Louvre). In 1774, after several failed attempts, he won the prestigious Prix de Rome, and later traveled to Italy with Vien where he immersed himself in Classical art forms and early Renaissance painting.

Upon returning to Paris five years later, he was finally admitted membership to Royal Academy, and was also granted residence at the Louvre by royal appointment. Despite all these honors he was impatient for greater recognition and frustrated by what he felt was discrimination against his age. His problematic attitude did not endear him to his superiors and his brash, ardent and sometimes narcissistic nature meant inevitable collisions with his peers and his patrons. But his position offered him both means and security and the 1780s found him a man in his forties with a family, a comfortable living, an expanding student roll, and a growing reputation.

Left: Portrait of Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier and his Wife (1788)

Lavoisier was a brilliant French scientist who was executed during the Reign of Terror on minor charges, partly through the influence of Marat (the same Marat whose death David later portrayed so iconically). Fellow scientist Lagrange said, “It took them only an instant to cut off his head, but France may not produce another such head in a century.”

David’s appetite for the heroic and grandiose, however, was about to be filled, and he was soon swept up in the radical changes erupting throughout France. His quest for the Neoclassical ideal – austere, noble, self-sacrificing – found a new outlet on the stage of the French Revolution.

David and other Neoclassicists felt they could elevate the artistic plane of their society by reviving the order and refinement of Greco-Roman civilization, uplifting humanity to a new level of honor, nobility, and reason. They saw the Revolution as the opportunity, and art as the catalyst.

This worldview is exemplified by paintings of the period, such as The Oath of the Horatii (1784) and The Death of Socrates (1787), which glorify their Classical subjects and project their values and virtues onto the revolutionary cause. But they also illustrate how easily the line between public expression and propaganda can become blurred.

True to his impetuous nature, David became embroiled in politics – as a member of the Jacobin Club and a friend of Robespierre, voting for the king’s execution in 1792 and even turning his influence against the Royal Academy (possibly out of frustration in not receiving all the benefits he felt he deserved). He organized public spectacles: festivals, processions, and carefully orchestrated unveilings of politically charged paintings, intended to stir or sway popular sentiment.

The limelight was intense but short-lived. As revolutionary fervor escalated out of control and the Reign of Terror began, internal power struggles undermined Jacobin leadership and David himself only narrowly escaped being executed alongside Robespierre. He landed in prison where he painted his famous self-portrait. This brush with danger was enough to satisfy even David’s thirst for the heroic.

“This is Civilisation” presented by art critic Matthew Collings – This excerpt gives a visual tour of The Oath of the Horatii – austere, paternalistic, typically Roman. The episode examines the careers of both David and Spanish painter Goya to contrast their evaluation of human nature.

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So here’s my first foray into the web interactives of the Louvre Museum. First of all I’ve got say how much I love the practical layout of the features – so much to see but all very accessible and well-organized.

Out of the list of thematic mini-sites I’ve chosen “Rembrandt the Draftsman”. Of the three areas in which Rembrandt made his mark (no pun intended) – painting, etching, and drawing – this exhibit highlights the last. And with pencil and paper being my first love I could hardly resist.

France, it seems, has had a long history of Rembrandt appreciation, and French collectors of his drawings go way back. The Louvre alone possesses 64 of them, and many of these were acquired in the early 18th century.

Rembrandt’s drawings, to a greater extent than those of other artists, are like strobe photos of an artist’s mind in action – like a flip-book of creative ideas taking shape in his head. He sketched prolifically and copied works of his mentors to explore their method and many of these sketches are still extant.

Interior with Saskia in Bed – a scene from Rembrandt’s own home. This one I found unique in its masses of heavy rich shading that give structure to the composition. A very warm and domestic example of his genre painting.

Most of his drawings are done with chalk or ink wash or a combination of both. With his distinctive blunt, rapid, scrambled style, they are spontaneous enough to capture the essence of the subject with very little premeditation and an added sense of lightness and motion (especially so in his narrative scenes).

Cornelis Claesz – This was one of the most articulate and sensitive in the exhibit. It uses not only ink and wash but chalk and gouache, and is much more elaborate and self-sufficient than most of his drawings. The subject was a prominent Dutch Mennonite.

Below, completely different in tone and subject, is the sketch Shah Jahan on Horseback, with a Falcon on his Left Wrist. It shows Rembrandt’s uncanny readiness to assimilate other styles. He must have been fascinated with the line and texture of Oriental painting. He made this copy of the Mughal ruler’s portrait from a miniature, probably a piece in his own eclectic collection. His widely multifarious interests qualify him as something of a Renaissance man, notwithstanding the Netherlands’ cosmopolitan society.

The most interesting section (I think) was ‘Rembrandt the Narrator.’ He was certainly at his best as a storyteller – his exuberant curiosity and attention to detail made the combination of human dynamics with an eloquent (and sometimes flamboyant) presentation a no-brainer. I think they reveal his character the most. They exploit his favorite subjects – the expressiveness of the elderly face, the body language of individuals in states of strong emotion, and the intrigue of exotic settings and dress.

The counterpoint between his subjects is strong but not forced, because there is a real sense of innocence in Rembrandt’s characters. I think part of this quality stems from the way he explored lesser-known subjects: for instance, rather than painting many dozens of Madonnas over and over, he looked for the dramatic potential in obscure Old Testament scenes, such as Jacob’s sons returning from Egypt, or in the pages of the Apocrypha.

The Parable of the Talents – To the right is a close-up of the hired man: his face downcast, and his posture suggesting even more strongly his embarrassment and despondency.

Something remarkable about Rembrandt’s sketches is that no matter how spontaneous or cursory they appear, the faces are always given equal treatment. Even with just a few marks he makes sure that they convey the suggestion of expression that carries the symbolic weight of the narrative.

And finally, landscapes first appeared in his portfolio around 1640, done mostly from plein-air sketches. These have become fixtures of his portfolio representing the Dutch style (of course how could the mention of Rembrandt fail to conjure a vision of those iconic ink-wash windmills?)

River with Wooded Banks – one of Rembrandt’s later pieces. It illustrates how drastically his style softened over time. It is strikingly atmospheric and harks to a much later style of painting – perhaps to Turner or even the Impressionists?

The Old Masters: Rembrandt van Rijn This Day in History

I’ve been wandering through the collection of the world’s most-visited museum – the Louvre of Paris.

Well, not literally; but I have discovered its excellent and fascinating website. Spending time in it is like spending time in the Louvre itself. It is really exhaustive, as you might expect, with a slew of things to tempt the artist, the history buff, or the merely curious mind (all three of which apply to me!)

The material ranges from student-friendly to quite technical. The interactive “Workshop” gives an amusing guided tour of museum highlights fit (I think) for all ages:

The most significant attraction for me is the series of “In-Depth” studies of great paintings. On my first visit I explored the feature for Delatour’s pastel portrait of Madame de Pompadour (yes, that is a pastel!) This video, for instance, discusses the composition of the painting, the biography of both artist and subject, and the evolution of pastel technique. Like a 15-minute all-in-one art class.

There are features classed also by era or special exhibition – all very attractively presented – I will definitely be going back for more. Which brings me to the introduction of my new blog series…

As I explore the Louvre (digitally at least) I’ll post on the most interesting pages and give my best picks. It should make for some good conversation, n’cest pas?

I was just thinking how ironic it is that people look at a realistic painting and say “That looks like a photograph!” – and on the other hand say of a great photograph, “That’s just like a painting”?

What is it we see in such pieces that moves us to make such comparisons?

The composer Robert Schumann said that a comparison is explanation by detour. Sometimes art provokes reactions in us that we can only express indirectly.

We compare paintings to photos because of their quality, when they are life-like in detail and accuracy – in doing so we pay tribute to the skill of the artist. But the other way around is a bit trickier to explain; what motive would a photographer have in attempting to “imitate” paint on canvas?

In this case it isn’t the visual texture we refer to but something less tangible. After all it is no challenge for a camera to achieve perfect photo-realism. Do we really mean that the composition is outstanding – and that the photographer has successfully assumed a more painterly style in presenting its subject?

What does this say about our perception of photography as an art form – do we think less of it compared with other fine arts because a photo involves newer technology, and takes only an instant to create? Or by comparing it with painting, which has an illustrious history tracing back through works of some of the world’s greatest creative minds – are we giving it the highest praise?

What do we really see in a photograph that calls to mind a painting? And how has the technology of the camera influenced our perceptions of art in general? I’d love for you to weigh in with your own thoughts on the subject.

The site Purpose Games has pages and pages of quizzes for the fine art aficionado. Test your knowledge of famous paintings and artists of various periods – for example, how many famous artists can you recognize from their self-portraits? Can you name a great work of art from just a close-up? Do you know your Manet from your Monet? You might surprise yourself…

You can also search for artist/period by name.

Have a Closer Look – Identify paintings by details

Identify the Artist: Self-Portraits

More Self Portraits

Masters – Great Paintings Quiz

Can you identify 15 of the most famous paintings?

Famous People by Famous Artists (This one is especially tricky since you have to match BOTH the artist and the subject: good luck!)

June 11, 1776: English painter John Constable is born

“Painting is but another word for feeling” – John Constable

Constable found himself wedged between two artistic worlds – the formal, elaborate Classical style that relished the ancient and remote; and the new Romantic school that sought to sublimate nature into something at once mystical and intimately personal. Both groups found Constable’s work hopelessly domestic and mundane. While Constable’s paintings betray his admiration for the technique and skill of the old masters, they also showed a definite Impressionistic flair; but the provincial flavor of his work did not endear him to the Romantics either, who expected a more idealized approach.

Somewhere between the two camps was forged a fusion of tradition and innovation that made Constable perhaps Britain’s greatest landscape artist.

In fact it was not in England but in France that his work had both the best reception and the strongest influence – a ironic twist considering that Constable never traveled outside of England. His professional career suffered because his accomplishments were so slow to gain recognition in his own country. But the impact he had on early French Romanticism, and the later Impressionist movement, is obvious in the works of Millet and other painters of the Barbizon school, who successfully combined naturalism with realism.

Left: Self-Portrait (1804) courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery (Source: Britannica Online)

Constable was born the son of a merchant in Suffolk, England, and later credited the beautiful countryside of southern England where he was raised as his main artistic impetus. Like many great artists, he was originally intended to follow his father’s trade, but his first exposure to fine art led him to pursue serious study – and fortunately his family consented.

The Hay Wain (1821) is easily one of the most recognizable English paintings. But when it was first exhibited at the Royal Academy, no one would buy it. At the pivotal Paris Salon Exhibition in 1824, it won ardent acclaim – and a gold medal from the French king!

The oil on canvas (originally titled Landscape: Noon) is one of the so-called “six-footers,” and depicts a mill belonging to Constable’s father and the cottage of a local farmer. It illustrates the artist’s need to incorporate the human elements of his environment.

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This month in history marks the start of both the Seven Years’ War and Pontiac’s War – each pivotal events that shaped the course of history for Native & European Americans in profound ways.

This era was a melting pot of cultures and heritages – Indians, frontiersmen, European colonists, traders, and soldiers – making it fertile ground for historical artists. While on the topic, I’ve selected a few of my favorite artists who specialize in period depictions of early America.

David Wright: Artist of the American Frontier

Wright was born and raised in the heart of American frontier country, but trained internationally. He has an impressive portfolio of historical paintings centering on portraits of Native Americans, pioneers and Civil War characters. He also works as a historical consultant for television.

Above: Huron – based on Wes Studi’s role as the Magua in “Last of the Mohicans” (Wright also participated in the production). Interesting to compare with James Bama’s renditions of Studi from this and other movie roles (here for example).

Preparing for the Dance, 20×24 oil on canvas.
Below: Long Way From Home, 9×12 oil on panel. This is one of my favorite portraits – such attentive detail and gripping expressiveness.

John Buxton: Artist of Our Heritage

Focuses on 18th century American life. His earlier career as an illustrator included collaborations with the National Geographic Society.

Kinsman of the Shawnee, 16×26; a beautiful example of the extraordinarily detailed approach taken by this artist. I remember first seeing this piece in a magazine and being able to gaze on it for literally hours – a quality not often reached by modern artists.

Robert Griffing

Robert Griffing at Lord Nelson’s Gallery; also on Paramount Press

Like the above artists, Griffing also was born and raised in the eastern US surrounded by frontier heritage. His particular specialty is portrayals of the Woodland Indians of the early American period. A motive of his work which I find especially compelling is to try to bring life to a period that is often overshadowed by the glamorized image of the West. He achieves this brilliantly.

Above: He Speaks of the Old Ways; below, The Delicate Balance of Honesty – without a pretty large image file it’s hard to do this amazing painting justice. What an amazing composition!

There are many excellent artists such as these who specialize in historical pieces of this period – in fact too many to make an easy selection for a single blog post! I genuinely admire their talent and in particular their keen curiosity and commitment to accuracy that separate them from the artistic crowd.

Writers get it…even the best of them. And so do artists.

It happens when you sit down to work, facing a stark white, hopelessly blank page, looming larger and more intimidating by the minute. It can scare the life out of you (not to mention costing valuable work time).

Whether you’re in need of some last-minute inspiration, or just trying to muster some creative juices, there’s no sure-fire way to overcome the blank page jitters. But why not make it a little easier on yourself? Try starting up with a colored page (or canvas) – anything but white. Better yet, go with something that already has a pattern or texture. Seeing a little activity on the page from the get-go is a good jump start to your creativity.