Roma al tempo di Caravaggio 1600-1630 at the Museo Nazionale di Palazzo Venezia, Rome (November 16, 2011 to March 18, 2012)

Guercino (1591-1666) at Palazzo Barberini, Rome (December 16, 2011 to April 29, 2012)

A generation ago, Frank Stella argued in his brilliant manifesto Working Space (1986) that the situation of modernist abstract painting was best understood with reference to Caravaggio’s role in 1590s Rome. Stella’s account borrowed, at key points, from Sydney Freedberg’s great formalist history Circa 1600: A Revolution of Style in Italian Painting. At a time when the capacity of the grand tradition to continue was unclear, what was demanded, Stella claimed, was a seminal new artist. Today no one would accept this view of our recent history or Stella’s attempt to present himself as our Caravaggio, a claim that nowadays not even a formalist could consider seriously.

Since 1986, there has been a great amount of new popular and scholarly discussion of the now widely exhibited Caravaggio.  Indeed, he has become irresistible, the one artist of this period, who speaks to modern audiences.  You see why at the entrance to “Roma al tempo di Caravaggio,” where Caravaggio’s Madonna di Loreto (1604-5) is juxtaposed with a painting of the same subject also from that date by Annibale Carracci and his studio. Where Caravaggio presents the humble supplicants kneeling before the Madonna, Carracci shows her enthroned on a house supported by three angels that struggle to lift it upwards. Caravaggio comes, one may think, almost from the same world as Courbet, but Carracci is firmly rooted in his time.

This vast exhibition presents no artist whose reputation will rival Caravaggio’s. Guido Reni’s Martyrdom of Saint Caterina (1604-6) is a wonderful picture; Agostino Ciampelli’s Pietà with Angels (1612), very affecting; and Orazio Borgianni’s David decapitating Goliath (1609-10) a remarkable, albeit much less successful variation of Caravaggio’s version of that scene, as also is Battistello Caracciolo’s David with the Head of Goliath (1612). Perhaps the most challenging picture on display is the anonymous follower of Caravaggio’s Saint Anna with Yarn and the Virgin Sewing (1620), a grand genre scene, an Italianate version of George de La Tour’s sacred scenes. And there is a Saint Augustine on display attributed to Caravaggio, a marvelous picture, which doesn’t for me resemble the portraits attributed to our artist. It certainly is astonishing to see how many followers Caravaggio had. None of these artists are remotely as good at him, not even – in this show – Rubens, whose Adoration of the Shepherds (1608), hardly stands out.

There are several Guercinos in this exhibition, and that artist is meanwhile the subject of a retrospective at the Palazzo Barberini. Giovanni Francesco Barbieri (1591 – 1666), to give him his proper name, had a career investigated in loving detail by the great connoisseur, Sir Denis Mahon. Here his saints, The Madonna with Child in Glory (1615-6) is a good example; his mythical scenes, Erminia and Tancredi (1619), for instance; and his portraits, like Portrait of Cardinal Bernardino Spada (1631) are displayed. Guercino does not speak to a larger public in the way Caravaggio does or, to choose a more appropriate comparison, as does his near contemporary in Rome, Nicolas Poussin (1594-1665). Guercino’s Saul against David (1646) perhaps indicates his ultimate limitations. Why in this scene of contention is the body language of the two men so elliptical? His Et in Arcadia ego (1618 according to Mahon) is famous amongst art historians, but only as a precedent for Poussin’s two versions of this conceit. But where Poussin gives philosophical weight to the scene, with his shepherds engaged in discussion about whether even in the ideal kingdom of Arcadia there is death, Guercino merely gives us an anecdotal image of omnipresent decay, his shepherds encountering a skull covered with flies, lizards and a mouse.

Both of these exhibitions are presented with the theatrical style that seems customary right now in Roman exhibitions. They employ brilliant lighting in dark rooms with intensely red walls, and use elaborate temporary displays that must be expensive to construct. The permanent installations at Palazzo Barberini and Museo Nazionale di Palazzo Venezia, and also those at such other grand settings as the Palazzo Pamphilj and the Palazzo Colonna, use natural lighting, which is kinder to aging paintings as well as to the eyes of we aging art writers. I understand the felt need for temporary shows to have an impact, but however you display Guercino, he cannot compete with Andy Warhol.  Just as Willem de Kooning inspired very many painters in the 1950s, but no one who was his equal, so with Caravaggio. Perhaps, then, his reputation fell after 1630 in part because none of his many followers were remotely his equal. At any rate, while two generations ago, Caravaggio was merely one of many great baroque artists, now, having outdistanced all of his rivals, he has become the Italian old master who speaks not just to specialist audiences, but also to the general public. Neither Guercino nor any of the followers of Caravaggio can take this role, which is only to note how very distant the visual culture of this period has become.

The post Working Space 1600: Shows in Rome of Guercino, Caravaggio and their Contemporaries appeared first on artcritical.

Andrew Graham-Dixon’s Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane

Caravaggio is the old master artist who today inspires large personal public interest. Piero della Francesca and Vermeer are also much loved, but very little is known about their lives. Caravaggio is different—we know that he was seriously rebellious, murdered a man, fled his enemies, died young; and he is thought to have been homosexual. The history of Caravaggio’s fame during his lifetime, the long eclipse of his reputation, and then his rediscovery in the mid-twentieth century is part of this story. Because he thus is the James Dean of baroque artists, there is a tendency to interpret his art in highly autobiographical terms. And so there are many novels and films about him. The best novel Christopher Peachment’s Caravaggio (London: Picador, 2002) offers a highly imaginative albeit entirely fictionalized version of his death.

Bernini and Pietro da Cortona were at least as influential in their time; Borromini had as strange a personal life; and Artemesia Gentileschi legitimately fascinates feminists. But none of them are remotely as famous today. Andrew Graham-Dixon presents Caravaggio’s life with close scrutiny of the paintings, lively curiosity about the background of the social history and careful attention to recent archival discoveries. A Life Sacred and Profane has useful accounts of Caravaggio’s early life and career in Milan; a plausibly skeptical reconstruction of attempts to identify him as a homosexual; and nicely constructive discussions of what exactly happened during his tumultuous years in Rome, and his flights to Naples, Malta and Sicily. Graham-Dixon is good at explaining why Caravaggio is so popular today. He has suggestive comments about the painter’s sources from Northern and, at the end of his career Southern Italian art. And he offers a good explanation of how exactly his hero was perceived in Rome and Naples as an artistic revolutionary. The iPad edition has good full color illustrations of Caravaggio’s paintings, and maps charting his career.

Myself, what I would most like is an idiomatic translation of Longhi’s Caravaggio, but until that happens, this book provides good accounts of the individual paintings, and up to date discussion of the attributions and archival research. What I found most instructive was considering the implications of Graham-Dixon’s common sense research. Probably Caravaggio had male lovers, but he also might have been a pimp for his female models. By providing nicely detailed reconstructions of Caravaggio’s swordsmanship, Graham-Dixon nicely explains one important feature of his art. Nowadays punks typically employ guns, but in Rome circa 1606 you needed to get in close to win a duel. And so the violence of Caravaggio’s late paintings is based, one would naturally conclude, upon the artist’s own direct experience. Without anachronistically treating Caravaggio as a Romantic hero, Graham-Dixon offers a plausible reconstruction of the artist’s early death.

Caravaggio speaks to our time as, a century ago Botticelli spoke to early modern aesthetes. But now when, it would seem, most of the lost paintings have been recovered and the archives and picture galleries have been ransacked, what’s next? Once an artist has been so thoroughly discussed, then it’s natural for commentary to move on. What other old master now speaks to our present concerns in the way that   Mostra del Caravaggio e dei Caravaggeschi, organized by Longhi, Caravaggio spoke to very many people in 1951?

Andrew Graham-Dixon, Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2011). ISBN-10: 0393081494. 514 pages. $39.95.

This review draws on my “The Transfiguration of the commonplace: Caravaggio and his interpreters, “Word & Image, III, l (l987): 41-73. The best account remains Roberto Longhi, Caravaggio (Rome: Editiori Riuniti, 1977), not yet translated, which written in very difficult Italian; my thinking was most influenced by André Berne- Joffroy, Le dossier Caravage (Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1959), recently translated with a new introduction as Il dossier Caravage: Psiologia della attribuzioni e psicologia dell’arte, trans. Arturo Galansino (Milan: 5 Continents, 2005).

The post Caravaggio: James Dean of Baroque Painters appeared first on artcritical.

Louisville, Kentucky has something that other cities covet. Unlike the countless urban centers praying that an eleventh hour investment in the creative sector will deliver them from an ailing economy, Louisville’s support and (blue) grassroots enthusiasm for the arts is well established.  Recently, the local arts community, displaying impressive vitality and channeling their own brand of the Arab Spring, took to the streets in a protest that helped unseat the reigning CEO of the city’s Fund for the Arts.

The confrontation began in February with a seemingly innocuous letter extolling the virtues of public support for the arts.  In addition to the well-worn tack of linking arts and culture to everything from higher math scores to economic expansion, the letter, signed by the directors of the Speed Art Museum, Frazier History Museum, and the Louisville Visual Art Association (LVAA), suggested that simply donating to the Fund for the Arts (FFA) wasn’t enough. Not all arts organizations benefit from FFA funding, the statement continued, and some that do, do so only very little.

Shortly after the letter’s publication in the weekly Louisville paper Business First LVAA director Shannon Westerman received a terse voice-mail from FFA CEO Allan Cowen which included, among other things, a perceived threat to Westerman’s status as director.  Apparently angered by Westerman’s signature on the open letter, Cowen ended the message by wishing him “good luck in (his) future career”.  On March 11^th, after Westerman went public with the intimidating voice-mail, incensed members of the Louisville arts community staged a lively protest outside the offices of the FFA and demanded Cowen’s ouster.

Though he’s been viewed as a mercurial figure, Cowen’s accomplishments at the FFA speak for themselves.  Under his watch, the annual campaign grew from a lightweight $600,000 to a staggering $8 million. Cowen is also credited for increasing FFA assets from $43,000 to holdings worth over $25 million today.  But less than two weeks after the demonstration and subsequent internal debate, on March 21st, the FFA announced that Cowen would be retiring after 30 years of service.  It seems fitting then that a city whose recent intrigue would make the House of Borgia proud should play host to an important work by the Italian artist known for his tumultuous life.

The Fortune Teller by Caravaggio is the heart of an exhibition at The Speed Museum that examines the lasting impact of the Milanese master’s accomplishments by juxtaposing The Fortune Teller with works from the Speed’s permanent collection. (The Speed Museum’s exhibition of the painting is the second of three stops in North American following the Italian Cultural Institute in New York in May, and a last stop at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa) .

Dated 1594, The Fortune Teller depicts an alluring gypsy entrancing a young cavalier while purloining his golden ring. It’s an image that possesses an eerie, almost modern quality. The surface, devoid of any trace of the brush, is free of craquelure and is gently speckled as if pigment were mixed with sand.  Cropped scarcely below the pelvis, the actors in this tale of beauty and betrayal inhabit a space just beneath the surface of the picture plane, resulting in a photographic quality that makes The Fortune Teller appear more akin to a grouping of figures by Degas than Caravaggio’s contemporaries.

Speculation about Caravaggio obtaining his heightened realism via the camera obscura has grown in the past decade and an x-ray image also on display does nothing to dispel the conjecture.  In addition to exposing the remnants of a subsurface painting by another artist, the x-ray reveals a total lack of underdrawing. It’s not only the composition that gives this work an incredible sense of veracity, but also the subtle facial expressions and the studied gestures of the figures. It’s little wonder that this picture was eagerly sought out by painters of the time; its space and sharp naturalism must have been startling to 17^th century eyes.

The most notable examples of Caravaggio’s influence in the show are two early 17^th century paintings; Ecce Homo, attributed to Gerard Douffet, and an image of St John in the Wilderness by an unknown painter.  Douffet’s Ecce Homo depicts Pontius Pilate presenting Christ to the mob, (a theme tackled by Caravaggio himself around 1609) A brilliant, single-source light illuminates the flesh of a tormented messiah, drawing the eye down and across the surface to the posed hand of Pilate.  The figures, carved out of light and dark, are close-cropped below the waist and pressed against the surface of the picture; all traits that give Caravaggio’s work its characteristic vérité. Douffet’s homage falls short only in his handling of the skin. In contrast to Caravaggio’s mastery of delicate shifts of hue that contribute to a depiction of life-like flesh, the figures in Ecce Homo seem to be made of wax. The unknown artist’s St John in the Wilderness shares similar qualities, but where Douffet’s composition benefits from areas of bold color, St John’s limited range of hue gives the sense of being a provisional, if refined, study.

Also on view, works by Rembrandt and Johannes Verspronck are compelling examples of Caravaggio’s impact across Europe. Compared to the previous paintings however, the execution of these works show the reach of Caravaggio in a diluted fashion.  Is the emphasis on contrasts of light and dark descended from the earlier master’s innovation? Undoubtedly, but these artists paint too much with their own brush to be considered followers in any meaningful sense of the word.

The Speed Art Museum is just one of Louisville’s varied and growing arts institutions. The city, home to the boutique 21c Museum Hotel, the prestigious Humana Festival of New American Plays, and the aforementioned dynamic local scene, is fast becoming a cultural hub that eclipses neighboring large cities.  And despite the somewhat tense atmosphere generated by this year’s public row, the parties involved have agreed to put their difference aside and are moving forward for the greater good of the community.  If not, expect artists in the streets.

The post Art is for Everyone: Caravaggio and Street Protests in Louisville, Kentucky appeared first on artcritical.