Vishnu Saves the Day
The Hindu god Vishnu has many avatars or reincarnations. One of them is Varaha, the Cosmic Boar [Not Cosmic Bore; though whenever I meet someone who is one I can’t help thinking about this sculpture]. The legend recounts that a demon imprisoned the Earth, known as Prithi or Bhu-Devi, in the depths of the ocean. Vishnu, as the powerful boar, dipped down into the ocean and brought Prithi up to the light of the heavens once again. This rock sculpture showing the event–Prithi is represented as a female figure, a goddess, being lifted in Varaha/Vishnu’s tusks–is found at a site called Udayagiri, which is near the town of Vidisha, India. It dates from the Gupta period, around 400 C.E. In the scene, a host of holy men witness the miracle of Vishnu’s power and the victory of order and good over evil. The Ocean, personified as a male figure with a hood of multiple serpents, worships Varaha. Good to see the good guys winning every now and again. He sort of reminds me of a 1600 year-old superhero, like Superman, who rescues Lois Lane…again. One suspect he had an emphatic “V” painted on his chest at one point.
Years and Years
The Fascist period in Italy saw, as did the same era in America, a huge increase in government spending in order to allay the economic effects of the Great Depression. Many public works projects were undertaken to employ people and keep the economy going. In Italy the Fascists built up their military, as did Germany, in the 20s and early 30s, but in Italy great architectural projects were also begun. Much of Italian Fascist architecture is not very attractive, but some of it is quite good. One of the things that’s interesting is trying to find the dates of building. Sometimes they’ve been eradicated because of the Fascist connotations. Here’s one that’s the most unapologetic and monumental that I’ve ever seen. It’s on the Central Post office of Naples. When Mussolini came to power he instigated a new system of the years, zeroing out the calendar in 1921-22. So for awhile dates were given in regular years and also in EF dates or ‘Era Fascista‘ dates. The same was true for buildings as well as books. This structure was built in 1936, or year 14 of the Era Fascista.
Arrivaderci Paradise!
This mosaic is a detail from an enormous 900-year-old mosaic flooring from the Norman cathedral in Otranto, Italy. The whole thing is huge, about 40 by 20 meters. There’s all kinds of subjects: religious, pagan, historical, and just plain made up. This one shows Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden. Adam seems quite happy and gives a cheery wave goodbye. In fact, rather than being expelled by the angel it looks more like Adam is saying “We’re outta here” and the angel is imploring them to reconsider. Anyway, I love these cartoonish mosaics and they’re one of the many great things to see in the south of Italy.
Trulli Amazing
The ‘trulli’ of the region around Alberobello in Puglia, south Italy, are one of the most amazing examples of vernacular architecture anywhere in the world. Built of local stone, unmortared, the courses form a dome in the interiors using the technique of corbelling (setting the courses slightly further in each time). This one was a beautiful rustic one, not quite as refined as some others. They might look like the homes of trolls, but they’re well suited for the heat of summer and cold of winter. The most concentrated area of trulli houses in Alberobello has been designated a UNESCO world heritage site for the uniqueness of the structures. A few masons still are able to construct and repair these remarkable buildings.
Boyz ‘n the Hood
There are few more eloquent documents of the elegant swagger of late 15th century courtly masculinity as this high relief from the Arch of Alfonso of Aragon in the Castello Nuovo in Naples. Alfonso marched into Naples in 1443 and the arch was completed around 1470, involving the work of several sculptors. It was very much an expression of renaissance ideals of courtliness and classical tastes. The arch itself uses classicizing architectural elements and antique subjects cover every inch of the ensemble. It’s Naples’s most impressive 15th century monument.
Last Supper, Otranto
Whenever you mention a painting of the Last Supper everyone always pictures Leonardo da Vinci’s famous mural in Milan, but many, many Last Suppers were painted before his stole the spotlight. Here’s one in a small Byzantine Church in Otranto, on the Achilles Heel of the boot of Italy. The scene is crammed onto one side of a small barrel vault in the church of St Peter. Christ is on the far left, and the Apostles are arrayed along the table. Judas scuttles below, smaller in scale and on the ‘wrong’ side of the table. He’s the betrayer. It may seem cartoon-like compared to Leonardo’s triumph of vanishing point perspective, but I like it anyway. It does the trick and tells the story, which is all it was supposed to do.
A Moment in Time
This is a detail from one of the world’s most famous works of art: Lorenzo Ghiberti’s competition panel depicting the Sacrifice of Isaac, dating from around 1403. It’s famous not only because it’s a great work of art and it won Ghiberti the lucrative contract for the ‘Gates of Paradise’ doors of the baptistery of Florence, but because of the panel that hangs right beside it in the Bargello Museum–Filippo Brunelleschi’s competition panel depicting the same subject. Hoping to spur great artistic achievement, the Cathedral works department had sponsored the competition, setting the subject matter and frame of the pieces. Only these two survive. According to Vasari, the great biographer of Renaissance artists, Brunelleschi was livid when he lost to Ghiberti. Humiliated, he fled to Rome and lost himself in the study of ancient Roman buildings and the techniques used to construct them. Brunelleschi would return to Florence to gain the biggest commission of all: to build the dome of the cathedral. As good as his panel was, Ghiberti’s was better. He chose to depict the moment that Abraham is concentrating on the jugular where the Old Testament patriarch will thrust his knife. The wind blows on the mountaintop of Sinai; Abraham’s sleeve catches a gust. The angel has not quite arrived to stay Abraham’s hand. His determination to do god’s will is evident in his set features. Isaac has discerned the angel, and, while looking up, has exposed that very neck which is the knife’s target. Ghiberti chose the narrative moment of greatest tension and showed himself to be current with recent classicizing trends with the body of the boy being as well-muscled as a Greek demigod.
Behind the Mask
Naples is an enigmatic city. It is dirty and crime-ridden, yet it is my favorite Italian city; or at least in a tie with Palermo. The city does not reveal itself easily; it takes time and effort. But the rewards are many. The city’s art and architecture, its vibrant street life, and its unrivaled vernacular culture, all make it one of the world’s most engaging cities. Here fish mongers still break out into song in the streets. As a traveler, you must have a little courage to peel off the mask of Naples so that it may reveal itself to you in all its mystery and magnificence.
Trio of Davids
I’m on a roll (see previous posts). No need to identify this fellow. For starters, there’s a recent and excellent article by Sam Anderson on David, which appeared in an August, 2016 edition of the New York Times Magazine. Wonderful piece. In Donatello’s marble David the eyes are merely incised into the face, giving the statue a sort of blank and empty stare. What a contrast with Michelangelo, who places they eyes in deep sockets with furrowed brows. He filed out the pupils, leaving a tiny wedge shape hanging, like a gleam. This statue is really looking, and really thinking. While Michelangelo learned much from Donatello (Donatello died when Michelangelo was about ten years old; it’s not impossible that they may have met–the little boy and the old master) he also went beyond him, enlivening stone to degrees not seen since the ancient Greeks carved their masterpieces.
Donatello and His Other David
This is Donatello’s marble David from around 1408 (see previous entry). I’m convinced that Michelangelo learned something from this David and from Donatello’s St George, which is also in the Bargello in Florence. The way the figure gazes off into the distance reminds me of that most famous of all Davids. Donatello has made this David’s features soft, as if he is still a boy but on the cusp of manhood; indeed, perhaps having just crossed that very threshold with his killing of Goliath. His mouth is small, indicating boyhood, but his stance and gaze give him a confidence beyond years.
Donatello and his David
This is a detail of Donatello’s bronze David in the Bargello Museum in Florence, likely produced in the 1440s, though no really firm date exists for its creation. The art historian Laurie Schneider once suggested that this diminutive and sensuous bronze (click here for the full information) was an expression of the sculptor’s homosexuality. That it’s a pretty boy nobody can deny. I took this image, rather mischievously, thinking of her thesis. It’s the part of the body that most conveys the work’s cheeky sensuality. In the same room of the Bargello stands an earlier David, also by Donatello. It could hardly be more different. Made of marble, of an older David as a young man, it is also twice as tall as the diminutive bronze. While soft of features, indicating David’s youth, it is monumental and heroic in scale and pose. Both statues, however, share the same moment in David’s famous act: they stand victorious with Goliath’s head at their feet.
Taormina
Taormina, on the east coast of Sicily just south of Messina, has been a tourist destination for centuries. It has two spectacular vistas, one towards Mount Etna and another of the town itself from the castle above. In this shot you can see the medieval town and, in the top left, the curves of the Roman theater, which still attracts visitors and hosts performances today. I had to climb the switchback stairs to get this picture, which was taken from the terrace of the lovely little cave church of Santa Maria della Rocca.
Ilaria
One of the most beautiful tomb effigies ever sculpted was this one of Ilaria del Caretto of Lucca, by the artist Jacopo della Quercia in 1413. Ilaria’s fate was not, alas, so uncommon. She married at the age of 24 and died at 26 after giving birth to her second child. It was common practice among the noble classes to give a baby to a wet nurse so that the wife could return to fertility immediately and conceive again quickly. This practice led to the early deaths of many young women whose bodies could not endure the physical demands placed on them. She rests today in a chapel of the Cathedral of Lucca, admired by many, but not often pitied for her short life. Della Quercia may have made her sort of immortal, but she died before her time.
