Georges Seurat, “Une Baignade, Asnières (Bathers at Asnières)” and “Un dimanche après-midi à l’Île de la Grande Jatte (A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte),” 1884
Most often seen separately, these two colossal paintings are meant to be paired together. They are frequently interpreted as an allegory of the upper and middle classes. Each set of people is on an island, with the bathers on the left clearly representing a lower class than the people on the right-hand island. Nearly every person faces the other group, with the exception of the little girl in white.
In “A Sunday Afternoon,” a subtle theme of corruption appears throughout. the island is cloaked in shadow, and several visual clues allude to prostitution. It was extremely uncommon for women to go fishing…but prostitutes did, so that they could loiter without arousing suspicion or breaking the law. The monkey in the painting also seems out of place, unless you know that the word in French for “monkey,” la singesse, also means “prostitute.” The island itself was even known for being a good place to hire prostitutes.
The paintings, therefore, seem much more moralistic than at first glance. The island of upper-class people is dark and filled with allusions to prostitution with the striking exception of the girl in white, who stares directly at the viewer.
The middle-class bathers, on the other hand, seem happy, relaxed, and are much larger than their upper-class counterparts. It seems clear whose side Seurat is on.
Michelangelo Buonarroti, “Pietà,” 1498-1499
I’ve previously written about a cute parody of this sculpture, but the original is too brilliant to not discuss.
Michelangelo’s “Pietà” may be his most beautiful sculpture. He made the unusual decision to depict a young, serene Mary cradling her recently crucified son, instead of an older, weeping woman as her age at the crucifixion would suggest. Much has been said about her facial expression and apparent age. The most interesting interpretation of these is that the sculpture actually depicts a young Mary cradling her sleeping infant Jesus. This explains not only the serenity in both of their faces, but also Jesus’ size. He is very small when compared to the great presence Mary has, and does not seem like he has just suffered.
Many paintings of Jesus’ childhood allude to his fate by hiding crosses or nails in the painting, and this may be an extreme example of that trend. We simultaneously see Jesus as an innocent, sleeping infant, but also a physically broken, but spiritually intact man at the end of his life.
Studio Joho, “Dan The Man Stage 3,” 2013
A beautiful animation, with an important message. Its subtitle, “Walking a mile in 16-bit moccasins” is telling; the video is a story of a man who gets the opportunity to relive a situation with a drunken bully in a bar several times. At its core, it is a story that shows how crucial understanding and compassion are, especially when it’s tough.
The Pac-Man sequence in the middle is my favorite part: a powerful, succinct story of a bully’s childhood, which shows the protagonist that the drunken jerk in the bar is really just a good person who’s turned to alcohol to try to fight off his inner demons.
All of the animations in this series are great, usually funny and often quite poignant. I recommend them wholeheartedly, especially if you enjoyed this one.
Pablo Picasso, “Guernica,” 1937
During the Spanish Civil War, the city of Guernica was considered a major strategic target for the Nationalists. Germany, supporting the Nationalists, bombed the city for two hours. When Picasso heard that the city had been bombed, he immediately stopped working on his commissioned painting and started “Guernica.” This painting is a visceral damnation of war, especially bombing, for the harm it does to civilians.
The painting has been dissected repeatedly by art historians looking to decipher the images, in particular the prominent bull and horse. Picasso responded to these theories by stating “…the bull is a bull and the horse is a horse…What ideas you have got I have obtained too, but instinctively, unconsciously…I paint the objects for what they are.” However, some of the symbols are obvious; the lightbulb on top is clearly a pun in Spanish, the word “bombilla” means both “lightbulb” and “bomb.”
For me, the most painful and powerful image is the mother on the far left cradling her dead child.
A tapestry copy of this painting hung at the entrance to the Security Council room in the United Nations from 1985 to 2009. When Colin Powell and John Negroponte delivered a speech at the UN explaining why the U.S. was going to war with Iraq, they did so in front of this tapestry, but had it covered up. They claimed it was because the images would be distracting on camera, but many pointed out that it may have been out of fear that the power of the images would certainly have undermined their message, that this war was necessary and just.
Bego M. Santiago, “Little Boxes,” 2013
A series of boxes with projected images of tiny people that appear to be content, if a bit bored, living inside. That changes when someone real approaches.
I won’t spoil it, but it’s hysterical. Watch it.
Heather Dewey-Hagborg, “Sample 6,” 2013
A creepy, Orwellian sign of the times. Artist Heather Dewey-Hagborg takes samples of DNA from items that she finds on the street (in this case, chewed gum), sequences the DNA, uses software to approximate the appearance of the individual, and then uses a 3D printer to print a sculpture of the person’s face around age 25. She even has a self-portrait done in the same way to show how accurate the process is.
Minimalist portraits - the first is Adventure Time and the second is Sesame Street! Can you figure out who they all are? What’s the next series I should do?
Hey all-
What pieces would you like to see me review? Any artists I should know about that I might not already? I’m always interested!
Hey there, Tumblr! Remember the Minimalist Adventure Time series I did a while back? I’ve decided to make some more with another TV series that I love: Sesame Street. I think these will be much easier than the Adventure Time ones to figure out: do you know who they all represent?
Andrew Fishman, “Self Portrait as Pimple,” 2010
For this photo, I took a picture of my face, and instead of removing the blemishes on my face, I decided to zoom in on them. I cropped my face to the size of 1 pixel x 1 pixel, so that the entire photograph is the pure color of a small pimple on my left cheek.
I thought that, if I am partly my physical appearance, and my physical appearance is imperfect, why not highlight and celebrate that? After all, it’s a pretty color when you get really close to it.
Good point! I don’t necessarily agree with Nina, but she makes an interesting distinction between what is art and what is commerce. It’s more thought-provoking than it is a reflection of my own opinion.
Fashion is not art. Stores are not museums. You go to stores to buy clothes. You don't go to stores to look at clothes.
Nina Garcia on Project Runway, Season 11, Episode 12: Europe, Here We Come
What do you think? Is Nina right?
Artemisia Gentileschi, “Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” 1638-1639
Artemisia Gentileschi, one of the first great women artists (and one of my all-time favorite painters) led a very troubled life. (Here’s a summary in the context of an earlier painting. Trigger warning: sexual assault)
One of her greatest achievements is the blow she struck for women in the arts. A large number of her paintings feature strong historical and biblical women, not only because she wasn’t allowed access to male models, but also because of her own triumph over overwhelming adversity.
This painting is a powerful statement. In a time in which women were not considered artists, she depicts herself as Pittura, the personification of painting. Similar things have been done throughout art history, mostly by male artists suggesting that Pittura has favored them, but this is the first time anyone had ever suggested that they were the literal epitome of painting talent. Her pose, clothing, and hair are particularly important; her hair and clothing are realistically unkempt and her pose seems awkward and twisted, as though she is actually painting rather than posing for a portrait.
Notably, the iridescent cloth her sleeves are made of are associated with classical depictions of Pittura. The colors the sleeves are made of can also be found on her palette, suggesting that she is in the process of creating the painting itself.
My favorite part of this painting is the lighting. Gentileschi was heavily influenced by Caravaggio, who pioneered dramatic chiaroscuro lighting, and was well aware of the symbolism the highlighted parts of the body had. In Thomas Eakins’ The Gross Clinic, intense light shines on the famed surgeon’s forehead and hand, indicating his intelligence and skill, respectively. Albrecht Dürer’s Self Portrait in 1500 again shows light on his forehead and hand, to emphasize his own skill and mental prowess. So when Gentileschi highlights her forehead and hand, she is referencing the theme of intelligence and skill. However, she also highlights her chest, which is highly significant. Her statement, therefore, is that she possesses skill and mental ability, despite the fact that she is a woman.
By portraying herself as Pittura, the female allegory for painting, Gentileschi argues for her gender’s inclusion in the arts. By doing so, she not only implies that painting is who she is (literally and figuratively), she also indicates and advocates gender equality within the realm of the visual arts.
Daniel Rozin, “Peg Mirror,” 2007
An ingenious mechanical mirror which creates an approximation of an image using shadows. Each peg is cut diagonally and is attached to a motor which allows it to rotate. There is a hidden camera in the mirror which transmits the information it receives to the pegs, which rotate so that the shadows they cast create a reflection of the viewer in real time.
I’ve written enough summaries of great art that I thought it was time to organize it. Here are some categories, each of which is connected to a page of the summaries.
Haley Morris-Cafiero, “Wait Watchers: Hunted”, 2013
While photographing another series, Morris-Cafiero noticed a young man in the background of the photo laughing at her. She knew from personal experience that this was certainly because of her weight, so she started trying to capture these people on film. She sets up a camera on a tripod and does something innocuous while she waits for the picture to take. Inevitably, the film often captures a similar photo of someone laughing at her or giving her a strange look, just for being.
Some in the series are more convincing than others. For example, I’m not sure “Wait Watchers: Swing Set” depicts a “normal” activity and some others might depict a person giving a funny look to something past Morris-Cafiero, but most are hard to deny.
What is particularly brilliant about this particular photograph in the series is not only the look of utter disdain on the woman’s face, but also that she is leading a child with her. The title of the piece comes from the advertisement for the TV show Hunted (which features a traditionally beautiful, thin woman) behind the woman.
I’m a very thin person myself, and I like this series for the glimpse it gives me into the world of someone without thin privilege and for reminding me that many people never get to outgrow bullying. It’s a powerful reminder of how easy it is to forget to be kind, understanding, and to not judge others, especially for their appearance.
Visit her website here.
Gustave Courbet, “L’Origine du Monde (The Origin of the World),” 1866
Unsurprisingly, this painting, considered to be the first realistic depiction of female genitalia in art history, shocked viewers when it was released. For me, the most interesting part is not the subject matter, but rather what the title implies. Declaring a vagina to be “The Origin of the World” elevates the role of women from mere vessel to creator. Rather than seeing women as something that passively held something (like a container—many artists have used vases and boxes as symbolic wombs) to something active, the half of the population capable of creating life from within itself. Contemporary artists would never have depicted women like this. Even Manet’s shocking “Olympia” from a few years earlier covered the genitals of the model.
The church was the ultimate authority in matters of culture, especially when it came to issues of decency. The church saw the vagina and all human sexuality as a necessary evil. Courbet rejected this and painted a vagina with the honesty he would have given any other part of the body. For him, it was not evil, just the opposite. It is the origin of every person and should not be vilified, feared, or condemned.
Special thanks to my friend and fellow artist Alyssa Blumenthal for her help in researching and discussing this piece. Her always amusing tumblr can be found here.
Marcel Duchamp, “Fountain,” 1917
In 2004, this urinal was voted the single most influential piece of art in the 20th century.
The history of the piece is hotly debated, but the most common version of the story goes as follows:
The art movement Dadaism was founded in part to challenge the idea that an elite few could control what was considered art and what belonged in museums. Several Dadaists set up a small gallery and introduced a revolutionary new show, in which every piece that was entered would be shown. Duchamp, calling their bluff, submitted a store-bought urinal that he had turned sideways and signed with a pseudonym. It was rejected, but because they had pledged to include every piece, it was installed, but a pillar was built around the urinal to hide it from view.
There is some debate about whether Duchamp created this piece or received it as a gift from a friend (he wrote to his sister that he received a urinal as a sculpture from a friend who went by the pseudonym Richard Mutt), but there is no doubt that this was the first piece that was created purely by the mind of the artist and required no technical skill at all.
This was revolutionary. There was, as one would expect, a tremendous outcry against the piece, primarily arguing that because Duchamp had not actually created anything, the piece could not be considered his art. Several fellow artists defended it, stating that his selection of the object and its placement in a museum made it into art. From this point on, anything could be declared art. In one act of rebellion, Duchamp single-handedly changed art so that the mind of the artist was now at least as important as his/her technical ability. This changed art forever.
Andrew Fishman, “The Zax Project,” 2012-2013
The current U.S. Congress is the most partisan in modern history.
I am completely fed up with it, and I decided that an unusual conceptual art piece was the only way to get my point across.
The United States government’s only hope of overcoming this divide is to inspire Congress to see past party lines, stop bickering, and compromise to do what’s best for the country.
The best, most succinct piece of literature I have ever encountered on the subject is Dr. Seuss’ short story “The Zax”, featured in the book The Sneetches and Other Stories. In it, a North-Going Zax and a South-Going Zax bump into one another. Each Zax refuses to get out of the other’s way and both are hopelessly stuck in the same spot forever. Sound familiar?
I sent every U.S. Senator a copy of this book in the hopes that some of them might read it and be reminded of a lesson they should have learned in kindergarten. Sometimes you have to put your own pride aside to compromise and do what’s best for everyone.
Not one Senator responded.