Alberti’s Window

A friend recently sent me a link to this Telegraph article, which discusses the palettes of several French painters from the 19th century. It’s a really interesting article, and it’s fun to see the how the methodology, artistic style, personality of an artist is revealed in his/her palette. Here are two examples from the article that I thought were especially interesting:

Over the past few weeks or so, there has been some fascinating discussion about Botticelli’s Mars and Venus (c. 1485).  I’ve tweeted about this a bit, but I wanted to write out some of the details about this discussion.

About two weeks ago, a Times article publicized a new argument that the plant located in the lower right-hand corner of Botticelli’s painting (underneath the hand of the satyr) could be datura stramonium, a plant which is known for its hallucinogenic properties.  In essence, this article suggested that Mars is swooning due to effects from this drug plant.

This news was picked up in several places in the art history community of blogs, including the Art History Newsletter (see here) and Three Pipe Problem (see original post here).  I’d encourage you to read the comments for both of these posts, so you can follow the different arguments and ideas that were presented to critique this argument for the hallucinogenic plant.  Hasan Niyazi from Three Pipe Problem researched the history of datura stramonium even further, and came to the conclusion that the plant depicted is actually quite different (see his fascinating findings here).  Instead of datura stramonium, Niyazi finds it more likely (and I agree) that the plant depicted is ecballium elaterium, commonly known as the “exploding cucumber” plant. For one thing, the plant depicted simply looks a lot more like an “exploding cucumber” than datura stramonium.  I also think the phallic shape and properties of this plant are unmistakable, which makes this plant a more appropriate fit for the Mars and Venus theme of love.

Congratulations to Niyazi on some great research!  This is a very convincing argument, especially since Niyazi can assert that the “exploding cucumber” would have been commonly found in Europe during Botticelli’s day (which cannot be confirmed for the datura stramonium).

Although it can be disappointing to realize that the painting may not contain a reference to drugs or hallucinogenics, I think it’s quite fun to know that an “exploding cucumber” could be located on the canvas instead.

This evening I was flipping through some textbooks on ancient art. I am currently developing curriculum for an introductory course on ancient art, and I am hoping to find a textbook which will enable me to teach the course through a case-study approach (similar to the other introductory course which is taught at my university). (That being said, if anyone has some textbook or curriculum recommendations, please let me know!)

Anyhow, while looking through one textbook, I came across an image of Emperor Commodus. The marble bust immediately caught my eye, since Commodus is represented as the god Hercules (c. AD 191-92, Capitoline Museum, shown right). I’ve seen Roman emperors to assume godlike characteristics (Augustus’ youthful statue from Primaporta (original dated ca. 20 BC) can be interpreted as a propagandistic statement – Augustus liked to advertise that he was the son of a god, since his father Caesar had been made a god after his death.) However, I’ve never seen another Roman emperor assume the lion skin and bear club of Hercules in portraiture. Commodus even carries the apples of Hesperides in his hands, which is a reference to one of Hercules’ most difficult labors.

Some sources list that Hercules was the particular patron of Commodus, while others go as far as to say that Commodus was thought to be a reincarnation of the god Hercules.¹ It seems like Emperor Commodus was quite the character; he even fought in the arena in order to display his herculean strength and physical prowess.

Cassius Dio’s Roman History records that “a vast number of statues” were erected of Commodus dressed in Herculean garb. You can see an example of Commodus depicted as a young Hercules here. Cassius Dio also mentions that Commodus replaced Nero’s head on the Colossus statue with his own head, and then added a bronze club and lion to the statue so it would look like Hercules.

Commodus was pretty invested in maintaining his Herculean image, perhaps even to his detriment, since he didn’t seem to be a very good ruler. What about you? If you wanted to be depicted as a mythological god, who would you choose? I wouldn’t mind being depicted as Artemis/Diana.

1 For mention of Hercules as Commodus’ patron, see Marina Vaizey, Art: The Critic’s Choice

2 Cassius Dio, Roman History (published in Vol. IX of the Loeb Classical Library edition, 1927), available online here. If you’re interested in reading more about Commodus, I would suggest that you read the whole chapter located at the link.

3 Ibid. (New York: The Ivy Press Limited, 1999), 20.

Did you know that Milton Glaser’s iconic poster of Bob Dylan (1966, shown on right) was influenced by one of Marcel Duchamp’s self-portraits (1957, shown on left)? I had no idea, until I read this recent Smithsonian article. (My favorite part of the article is where Glaser discusses how he feels about the poster: he wishes that he could redo Bob Dylan’s hair, finding it “a little clumsy.”) Anyhow, I thought the article was fitting, given that last week Dylan turned 69 years old. You can compare the Duchamp and Dylan profiles below. Now tell me, who do you think has a more noble nose?

I’ve heard people joke that the Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam scene (Sistine Chapel ceiling, 1508-1512) looks like it displays a cut-away section of the human brain (with the oval-shaped cloth depicting the shape of the brain, and all of the heads and bodies suggesting brain matter). You can imagine how surprised I was to learn that scientists are currently arguing that there is a connection with Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel and depictions of the brain, although not with the Creation of Adam scene.

Instead, Ian Suk and Rafael Tamargo argue that the scene Separation of Light from Darkness contains a depiction of a human spinal cord and brain stem. You can read the Scientific American article about these findings here. And take a look at this image:

I think this is an interesting connection, but I do have some doubts.  Michelangelo often made his figures extremely muscular and bulky (almost overly-idealized, in my opinion), and this detail of God the Father’s neck could just indicate the artist’s penchant for muscles and chiaroscuro/modeling.  But, like I said, this brain theory is still interesting. I’m not familiar with enough scientific or anatomical imagery to make a definite conclusion on this new argument, but it’s fun to consider.