Ria Brodell, “St. Anthony Finds G.I. Joe’s Gun,” 2009, gouache on paper, 11 x 15 inches. judirotenberg.com/
Looking at Boston-based exhibits in anticipation of an upcoming visit, I noticed a show of Ria Brodell’s work at Judi Rotenberg from the show “The Handsome & The Holy” (through July 11). Presumably, G.I. Joe would be the handsome, and St. Anthony is the Holy. See also “He-Man and St. Michael Find They Have a Lot in Common” (link) and “He-Man is Introduced to G.I. Joe” (link), which I am guessing are relevant in deciphering Anthony and G.I. Joe.
I’m not sure if this is relevant, but Brodell’s monks wear brown robes, which might relate to St. Francis’ “beast colored” tunic (and St. Anthony was a Franciscan). In terms of the violent element (G.I. Joe’s gun), there is a violent element to the St. Anthony story — he became a Franciscan to die a martyr like five other martyrs whose bodies were carried to his monastery en route to burial. Most importantly, he was the “finder of lost articles.”
There is clearly more to this painting than I have uncovered so far. Brodell’s other works invoke guardian angels and many self-portraits collaged upon other famous figures. I’m also working my way through Brodell’s website, but I thought I’d share the image above.
It’s not a painting, but this must be the painting of the week: a Jesus made of Lego pieces.
Here are the details:
Where: Sweden
How tall: 5.9 feet
What: copy of Thorvaldsen’s ‘Resurrected Christ’
How long: 1.5 years in the making
How many pieces: 30,000
Read the entire article in The Christian Post.
According to the article, Jesus looks white on the outside, but colored Lego pieces were used underneath. Reminds me of Matt. 23: 25-28:
Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess. Thou blind Pharisee, cleanse first that which is within the cup and platter, that the outside of them may be clean also. Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness. Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.
and Luke 11: 39, “And the Lord said unto him, Now do ye Pharisees make clean the outside of the cup and the platter; but your inward part is full of ravening and wickedness.”
Also, Lego’s motto is “Only the best is good enough,” which sounds very biblical. Or am I reading too much into it?
It’s nice to remember sometimes that Rothko has painted some representational work. Image: Artdaily.org. Mark Rothko, Entrance to Subway, 1938, Oil on canvas, cm 86,4×117,5- Collection, Kate Rothko Prizel.
In the interests of reviving the painting of the week, here’s Lucas Cranach the Elder’s “Madonna with Child” (ca. 1518), from Artdaily.org, opening in an exhibit at the Städel Museum in Germany on November 23, 2007.
According to Artdaily:
More popular and economically more successful than his contemporary Albrecht Dürer, it was Lucas Cranach who presumably exerted the longest-lasting influence on the world of German imagery. His early landscape depictions were trailblazing, he inspired old religious themes with completely new life, as well as inventing entirely new pictorial types for the reformed faith. His portraits of Martin Luther, Frederick the Wise, Philipp Melanchthon and others have shaped our conception of these personages to this very day.
I will add just one more point. The city in top left corner of the painting is likely Jerusalem from the West. The church with the two towers is likely the Holy Sepulcher and the dome is probably Templum Salomonis/ the Dome of the Rock.
In honor of my birthday on Friday, I am posting Chagall’s “Birthday.” What I find most compelling about this work (and many of Chagall’s works) is his ability to reverse gravity. The figure which floats in the air remains grounded, despite the hovering. Chagall’s balancing act, like Rothko’s, is extremely tightly formed; if one line or one color were to change in the work, the entire piece would collapse.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s “Esther before Ahasuerus” (in the Metropolitan Museum collection) shows a somewhat delirious looking Esther approaching a youngish Ahasuerus, who looks like he is straight out of The Man in the Iron Mask. Although it is difficult to see, just under Ahasuerus’ backside, the top of the chair shows a sort of jestor’s head, supported by two claw feet. This clown with sharp claws is a great metaphor for the story of the Book of Esther.
According to the Met website, Gentileschi was the most famous woman painter of the 17th century.
This painting, among her most ambitious, dates from about 1630. It recounts the story of the Jewish heroine Esther, who appeared before King Ahasuerus to plead for her people, thus breaking court etiquette and risking death. She fainted in his presence, but her request found favor. The story is conceived not as a historical recreation but as a contemporary event, with emphasis on elaborate costumes. The picture has been abraded, compromising the brilliant description of the luxurious fabrics. Initially Artemisia included the detail of a black boy restraining a dog—still partly visible beneath the marble pavement, to the left of Ahasuerus’s knee.
From now on, Iconia will post and dissect one painting a week. The paintings will carry some relevance to religion and art.
This week’s painting is Saint Luke Drawing the Virgin by Mabuse. Wood, 109.5 x 82 cm. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. I saw the painting at a show at the Metropolitan Museum, so I am borrowing from a previous post I wrote.
Byzantium: Faith and Power (1261–1557)
March 23, 2004–July 4, 2004
Special Exhibition Galleries, The Tisch Galleries, 2nd floor
The Metropolitan Museum of Art
http://metmuseum.org/home.asp
The Metropolitan’s current exhibit, “Byzantium: Faith and Power” is the best one I have ever seen engage this period. For an exhibit so comprehensive and huge (it takes up many rooms, each stuffed with painting after icon after tapestry), it has an embarrassingly small press kit, but here is the gist of it. The exhibit is the first major museum exhibition to focus on the Palaiologan period’s aesthetic developments, and the way that aesthetics unfolded over time with the ensuing power shifts, says Philippe de Montebello, Director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Michael VIII Palaiologos was the Byzantine general, who upon successfully taking Constantinople on August 15, 1261, bore an icon of the Virgin Hodegetria (the city’s “eternal protector”). This launched an “artistic and intellectual flowering in Byzantium,” thus the press release.
If you explore the Met’s website, you will find a lot of supplementary material as well as an online tour, (although I would caution you to see “Choros” which is a huge mobile sculpture from the 13th–14th century) but I intend to focus specifically on one of the final pieces in the exhibit, “St. Luke drawing the Virgin,” (1520-25) by Jan Gossaert called Mabuse. Mabuse is largely credited as one of the first of the Netherlandish “Romanists.”
Mabuse shows Saint Luke kneeling on the right in his red robe, as an angel (Gabriel?) guides his hand. The two draw the Madonna and child, flanked by five angels. The most interesting point, though is that in the top right of the painting, a statue of Moses sits on a shelf, and Moses (with horns to be sure) points to the Ten Commandments. Clearly, Moses insists on “4: Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth,” (Exodus xx: iv) but Gabriel reinterprets the text, and allows for religious iconography.
Leaving aside the fact that the Virgin looks like Felicity, this image really serves as a wonderful piece to really epitomize the Byzantine exhibit. Here we have strict Biblical interpretation at odds with a visual explication, and after one round, Art is still standing.
