Alberti’s Window

A recent article in the New York Times caught my attention: Catholic indulgences are back.

Indulgences are an interesting topic in the history of art, particularly because the initial selling of indulgences brought about the Protestant Reformation. Martin Luther was discontented with the Catholic church for many reasons, including the selling of indulgences. In 1517, he wrote 95 theses which outlined his discontent with the Catholic church. He nailed a copy of these theses onto the door of the Wittenburg church.

To retaliate against the Reformation, the Catholic church began the Counter-Reformation movement. It was hoped that the Catholics could reconvert any souls who had fallen astray to Protestant paths. The Counter-Reformation also allowed the church to defend itself against Luther’s criticisms. The Council of Trent was organized to help the church define the doctrines of the church and also rebuttal Protestant heresies. Also, the Council of Trent stipulated the purpose of art within the Church; these stipulations served as an outline for much of the art produced during the Baroque period.

I love Counter-Reformation (Southern Baroque) art because it is so propagandistic. The art and architecture is dramatic and emotional to help facilitate the process of reconversion. Here are a three of my favorite propagandistic pieces:

Bernini designed this piazza (plaza; 1656-1667) in front of St. Peter’s Cathedral (the seat of the Vatican). This photograph is taken from the top of the cathedral, looking outwards at the plaza. Many art historians discuss how the colonnade of Bernini’s piazza extends itself like two arms, reaching out and embracing those who walk up to the church. This can be interpreted propagandistically: it is as if the church is reaching out to welcome back anyone who was temporarily disillusioned by Protestantism.

To promote reconversion during the Counter-Reformation, there are many Baroque paintings which touch on this theme. I especially like Caravaggio’s painting of The Conversion of St. Paul (1600-1601). This painting is on the wall of the Cerasi Chapel (Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome), and the viewer of the painting is practically standing underneath Paul’s head. The painting is composed dramatically, with Paul’s foreshortened body pushed to the edge of the foreground; it is as if Paul’s body is about to spill out of the picture and land on top of the viewer beneath! Other dramatic elements, such as the tenebristic lighting (violent contrasts between light and dark) grab the viewer’s attention. Dramatic paintings intended to catch the viewer’s attention and evoke an emotional response that would help facilitate piety and reconversion.

Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa (1645-52) is also located in a chapel (Cornaro Chapel, Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome). Oh man, there is so much to say in regards to this sculpture and propaganda. Once again, this sculpture propagandistically depicts a moment of conversion. After Theresa’s father died, she fell into a series of visions and trances. At this time, a fire-tipped arrow of Divine love was repeatedly pierced into Theresa’s heart by an angel. St. Theresa described this “experience as making her swoon in delightful anguish.”¹ The dramatic quality of this sculpture is captured in the movement of Theresa’s heavy drapery. The drapery folds and falls around her body in a very energetic way, as if it has a life of its own. I also love the dark shadows that are created by the drapery folds. The contrast of the dark shadows and light marble reminds me of the tenebristic lighting that Caravaggio used in his paintings. The dramatic nature of this sculpture is enhanced because of its location; the niche of the chapel is crowned with a stage-like pediment and marble columns.

The Ecstasy of St. Theresa and Conversion of St. Paul also are propagandistic because they depict Catholic saints. The veneration of saints was a practice that was denounced by the Protestants. Therefore, by depicting the moment of conversion for a saint, the Catholic church visually asserted its stance on saints and sainthood. (I have written a little more about the veneration of saints in Baroque art here.)

What do people think about art and propaganda? Any thoughts on the return of indulgences? What Counter-Reformation works of art do you like?

1 Fred S. Kleiner and Christin J. Mamiya, Gardner’s Art Through the Ages, 12th ed., vol. 2 (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2005), 696.

I am probably the only person who thinks that the title of this post is clever.

On Thanksgiving evening, the family was gathered around B’s iPhone, answering questions to online geography quizzes. J and I vied to do an art quiz, and I found myself stumped on one of the questions:

Caravaggio died of what disease?

I was embarrassed that I didn’t know the answer to this question, since I’m an art historian who claims Caravaggio as my favorite painter. However, after doing some research, it looks like the circumstances surrounding Caravaggio’s death are uncertain. The art history quiz cited “malaria” as the correct answer, but a relatively recent discovery of Caravaggio’s death certificate has led an Italian researcher to propose that the artist died of typhus. Taking into consideration the change in calendar, this certificate places Caravaggio’s death as July 18, 1610. Therefore, the period between Caravaggio’s arrival at malaria-infested Porto Ercole and his death would not have allowed time for malaria to sufficiently incubate. It appears that typhus is a more logical cause for the recorded “illness” that caused Caravaggio’s death.

Note: The cause of Caravaggio’s death is something completely different from the Caravaggio disease, something that I’m pretty sure I have contracted.

When I was researching information for my recent Bernini post, I came across an interesting anecdote regarding Bernini’s opinion of the French architect François Mansart. The only recorded time that Bernini left Rome in his adult life was in 1665, when he was invited by Louis XIV to present a design for the Louvre palace (Bernini’s plan was ultimately rejected). Bernini found fault with everything in Paris, and mockingly compared the Parisian chimneys and skyline to a wool-carding comb. Bernini also said that all of Paris was worth less than a painting by Guido Reni. However, out of all of Bernini’s criticisms, he was able to muster some compliments for the architect François Mansart – but he couldn’t help but note that Mansart would have been much greater if he had lived in Rome.¹

I developed my love for François Mansart’s architecture (not to be confused with Jules Hardouin Mansart, François Mansart’s grandnephew, whose architecture I also love) on a study abroad a couple of years ago. The image above is of the Château de Maisons-Lafitte, one of the châteaus designed by François Mansart. This château, however, is unique in being the only one designed by Mansart that still contains the original interior decoration.²

François Mansart championed the use of the mansard roof (also called simply “mansard”); although the architect did not develop the mansard roof, it is named after Mansart (although a corruption in spelling) due to the architect’s popularization of it.³ Mansards typically are a type of pitched roof that has two slopes on each of the four sides (although Mansart also also developed a three-pitched variety which was not used by other architects).⁴ The bottom slopes are set at a steep slope, whereas the upper slopes are at a slight incline. These two different slopes allow for maximum space for the attic interior, which accounts for why the roofs were so popular – an extra level to the structure could be added without distorting the classical proportions of the facade. Mansards are also often decorated with an oblong, flat top.⁵

Aren’t mansard roofs wonderful? For me, mansard roofs are one of the things which typify Paris. If I ever lived in Paris, I would have to have a mansard over my head.

1 Arthur Lubow, “Bernini’s Genius,” Smithsonian 39, no. 7 (October, 2008): 81.

2 “Mansart, François.” In Encyclopaedia Britannica 2008. Encyclopædia Britannica Online, http://search.eb.com.erl.lib.byu.edu/eb/article-4562 (accessed 8 October 2008).

3 Peter Smith, et al. “Mansart.” In Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online, http://www.oxfordartonline.com.erl.lib.byu.edu/subscriber/article/grove/art/T053866pg1 (accessed 8 October 2008).

4 Ibid.

5 Francis Woodman. “Roof.” In Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online, http://www.oxfordartonline.com.erl.lib.byu.edu/subscriber/article/grove/art/T073782 (accessed 8 October 2008).

So, apparently, good things can come from being forced to return illegally obtained works of art. After the Getty museum returned around 40 illegally excavated and exported antiquities to Italy, the museum was able to receive rare Italian loans for a blockbuster exhibition of Bernini’s work – the first major exhibition for the Baroque sculptor in America. One of the loans includes the portrait bust of Costanza Bonarelli, Bernini’s mistress. Like with many of Bernini’s other portraits, Costanza is portrayed with her head turned and lips parted, as if she is about to speak. The lifelike and dramatic quality of Bernini’s portraits is just one of the things that I love so much about his sculptures.

One thing that is unusual about Costanza’s portrait is that it appears that Bernini made the bust for his own enjoyment. During the Baroque period, marble was quite expensive, and it is quite unusual for an uncommissioned marble bust to have been made at this time. In fact, this sculpture is thought to be the first uncommisioned bust in art history.

Bernini’s other portrait sculptures are just as captivating and lifelike. One of the reasons for this lifelike quality is that Bernini tried to convey different textures (e.g. hair, lace, cloth, etc.) with the marble. He also would carve deep incisions which would create shadows and thereby suggest dark color – which can be seen in the dark irises of the Pedro de Foix Montoya bust. Bernini did not have his portrait subjects sit for him while he worked, which makes his stunning likenesses even more extraordinary. When finishing this Montoya portrait, it is recorded that Cardinal Barbernini touched the priest Montoya and said, “This is the portrait of Monsignor Montoya,” and then turned to Bernini’s bust and said, “And this is Monsignor Montoya.”

Not only was Bernini a good sculptor, but he could work quickly when necessary. When creating a bust portrait for Cardinal Scipione Borghese, an interior instability in the marble caused it to crack when it was hit with a simple, straightforward hammer tap. In this detail of the bust, you can see how the crack passed over the forehead of the cardinal and around the back of his head. Unfortunately for Bernini, who had been working on the bust for months, the portrait was near to completion when the damage occurred. With no way to disguise the crack, Bernini started completely over and completed the second bust in only fifteen days, albeit that he worked nearly non-stop. Upon completion, Bernini first unveiled the cracked version and undoubtedly enjoyed the look of horror that certainly passed over the cardinal’s face, only to then unveil the second, flawless copy.

How I wish that I could be in Los Angeles to see these sculptures! This exhibition is on display until October 26, and then will be at the National Gallery of Canada from the end of November to March 2009 . Since I don’t plan on being in L.A. or Ottawa any time soon, I guess I will need to be content with this. Sigh.

* If you’re interested in reading more about this exhibition and Bernini, you can refer to the October 2008 edition of Smithsonian magazine and Simon Schama’s Power of Art (New York: Harper Collins), 78-125.

I just read an article in the New York Times about a new Jeff Koons exhibition…at Versailles.

At first, I immediately thought I wouldn’t even like the thought of this exhibition. After all, a Baroque scholar would want to have Versailles shown in its pure, untainted decadence. And if I was there, I probably would get upset seeing Koons’ kitschy, flashy work all over the palace.

But I think that this exhibition poses a really interesting idea. Koons’ work is a commentary on mass-production, pop culture, kitsch, and consumption. For example, Koons’ sculpture Michael Jackson and Bubbles is created in the style of cheap porcelains that can be bought at the dollar store.

I am especially intrigued by this idea of consumption in regards to Versailles. In this sense, wouldn’t Koons’ works seem appropriate at Versailles palace, which is the epitome of European consumption and decadence? These kitsch sculptures even bring up associations of sweat shops, “MADE IN CHINA,” and cheap labor – all which can tie into the oppression of the common people that took place in seventeenth and eighteenth century France.

Of course, I’m pretty sure that Louis XIV would never have owned anything kitsch. The decor in his home would have been a little bit more, um, pricey.

If you read this article, make sure to check out the photo gallery too. What do people think?

*J made an interesting comparison tonight: both Koons’ art and Versailles are quintessential examples of things that are “over the top” – Koons in his ridiculously large balloon animals or stuffed animals cum garden sculptures, and Versailles in, well, every way imaginable.