THIS IS NOT MODERN ART

Katsushika Hokusai

Self Portrait as an old man

1839

Louvre

“From the age of six I had a penchant for copying the form of things, and from about fifty, my pictures were frequently published; but until the age of seventy, nothing I drew was worthy of notice. At seventy-three years, I was somewhat able to fathom the growth of plants and trees, and the structure of birds, animals, insects and fish. Thus when I reach eighty years I hope to have made increasing progress, and at ninety to see further into the underlying principles of things, so that at one hundred years I will have acheived a divine state in my art, and at one hundred years I will have acheived a divine states in my art, and at one hundred and ten, every dot and every stroke will be as though alive. Those of you who live long enough, bear witness that these words of mine prove not false.”

Katsushika Hokusai c.1835 as he made his fifth and last name change from ‘Iitsu, Formerly Hokusai,’ to ‘Manji, Old Man Mad About Painting’. In the end he died at eighty nine, missing his countdown by eleven years. On his death bed he sighed and said “If only I could have just another five years - then I could become a real artist.”

She makes me breathless.

It absolutely blows my mind that someone can make painted fabric and textures look so real

zasu:

A Tangerian Beauty (c. 1876) by José Tapiró Baró (1830 - 1913)

clembastow:

50 Unexplainable Black & White Photos

Early surrealist works? Too much arsenic in the wallpaper? Witness protection program?

(via clambistro)

ornamentedbeing:

The Empress Eugénie (Eugénie de Montijo, 1826–1920, Condesa de Teba), 1854
Franz Xaver Winterhalter (German, 1805–1873)
Oil on canvas

36 1/2 x 29 in. (92.7 x 73.7 cm)
Signed, dated, and inscribed (lower right): Fr[?] Winterhalter Paris 1854
Purchase, Mr. and Mrs. Claus von Bülow Gift, 1978 (1978.403)

Winterhalter began an official portrait of Empress Eugénie (Eugénie de Montijo, condesa de Teba, 1826–1920) shortly after her marriage in 1853 to Napoleon III, emperor of France, but it was not exhibited until 1855. The present work is, in contrast, relatively intimate in scale and effect. It shows the empress in a Second Empire adaptation of an eighteenth-century gown. Her interest in the previous century, especially her fascination with Marie Antoinette, queen of France from 1774 to 1793, is well documented.

Source:Franz Xaver Winterhalter: The Empress Eugénie (Eugénie de Montijo, 1826–1920, Condesa de Teba) (1978.403) | Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

More nineteenth century Rococo revival. Eugénie’s case of ‘dress-ups’ looks more natural and less jarring than the painting by Andreotti here. Perhaps it is the hair, perhaps it is her colouring, perhaps it is the pose.

Or maybe Winterhalter just has mad skillz.

A Day’s Outing

Federico Andreotti (1847-1930)

So there I was, happily going about my business, righteously proclaiming how the Rococo was maligned and put-down and never taken seriously, feeling all crusader-y and pumping my fist in the air for Rococo rights and whatnot when along comes this painting.

Wha?

Tissot’s faces with Watteu’s fashions?

In the late 1800s?

So there was a Rococo revival. Fine. Good. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?

I mean it was still purely decorative and not taken seriously, that’s why none of your art history subjects are called Rococo: a style we take seriously now and study and stuff.

But here we have a revival in the 19th century, so what does this mean?

Growth of middle classes. Class mobility. Disposable wealth. Growing merchant classes, development of the idea of using free time for enjoyment, etc, etc. People with new money, leisure time and a sense of fun filling their homes with flippant things of beauty that bring them joy. Just like the aristocracy did, well, before.

The women Tissot painted look like they’d have loved to imagine themselves sitting in a park with a man in a wig and a mandolin.

note: As an avid, rabid and disturbed watcher of Antiques Roadshow I now feel ashamed for not connecting the multitudes of porcelain shepherds and shepherdesses with a larger 19th century Rococo-revival trend. My bad.

La Cigale (The Grasshopper)

Jules-Joseph Lefebvre

1872

The National Gallery of Victoria had been trying to buy Chloé from Young and Jackson’s for years.The pub was being as coy as the lady herself and refused to come to the table. Every few years the NGV would make another clumsy advance and Young and Jackson would laugh, toss its hair and saunter away. This went on and on. The NGV got sadder and sadder as the years went by.

The Felton Bequest (FB) was one of the NGV’s besties and knew how much the they wanted Chloé.

One day the Felton Bequest sat down with a glass of wine and a bowl of thinking nachos. How could they cheer up their buddy, since getting this particular girl was obviously impossible? They considered chocolate, ponies, portable rainbows, torturing the the owner of the Young and Jackson, a make-over session, and a make-out session but nothing seemed good enough.

The NGV continued to mope.

The Felton Bequest started to get really irritated with NGV’s attitude, but, being besties, they still wanted the make the NGV feel better rather than snapping “Oh my god, will you just move on already!” So they decided that, being that there were always more fish in the sea, and paintings on the market, they would find a replacement.

They found Chloé’s sister in 2005. The sultry La Cigale was in a private collection (Mr A. Nonymous of Melbourne was moving to a smaller estate and no longer had room for a woman with such a big personality) The Felton Bequest decided to buy her and set her up with NGV.

It was lust at first sight and they’ve been together ever since! The best part is that now that they have Chloé’s sister there is a greater chance that Young and Jackson will lend their half of the duo to the gallery- they’ll get her in the end even if it is only for a temporary exhibition.

On a personal note- there is nothing I do not love about this painting. From her incredibly forthright expression down to her slightly splayed toes. I love the way she stands, her finger in her mouth, staring at the viewer, her arm squashing one of her breasts. I love the way the rag wrapped around her arm is flicked by the wind. I love the blank column behind her, the tall branches, the dancing leaves, and that little hint of wintery and cold blue sky.

I may even like her better than Chloé, except, well, they don’t serve beer in the nineteenth century gallery.
 

Chloé, 1875

Jules-Joseph Lefebvre

Oil on canvas

Melbourne is a city that loves three things: art, beer and women.  (I have, for the sake of my argument, not included all of Melbourne’s other loves: Football and sport of all kinds, beer, coffee, chicken parmagianas, beer, being self-referential, trivia nights, beer, itself, and feeling superior.) Here we’ve found ways to combine all three, art in pubs!

I’d like you to meet one of my favourite Melbournians. Chloé,  painted by Jules-Joseph Lefebvre.

The lovely and demure Cholé has been housed in one of the most famous pubs in Melbourne since 1909. Now it is up for debate whether Young & Jackson made Cholé famous or if the pub became famous thanks to Chloé. My guess is the later. But then I would say that. She is hung in her very own namesake bar and has been friend and companion to a wide range of drunks. Perhaps that’s why she looks away- she has seen TOO MUCH.

Madame Grassini in the Role of Zaire

Elizabeth Vigée-Lebrun c.1805

Oil on Canvas

I’m sad that turbans never took off again. 

Reclining Odalisque

Francesco Hayez

Odalisques are one of my favourite subjects for paintings. The other is the Virgin Mary.

Do I have virgin/whore issues?