Benjamin West’s Portrait of Queen Charlotte

On loan to Denver Art Museum.

Benjamin West is a fascinating figure in American art history. He was born in 1738 in Pennsylvania, in a house that is now in the borough of Swarthmore on the campus of Swarthmore College. He was the tenth child of an innkeeper, John West, and his wife, Sarah Searson. The family later moved to Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, where his father was the proprietor of the Square Tavern, still standing in that town.

West told the novelist John Galt, with whom, late in his life, he collaborated on a memoir, The Life and Studies of Benjamin West, that, when he was a child, Native Americans showed him how to make paint by mixing some clay from the river bank with bear grease in a pot. West was an autodidact; while excelling at the arts, “he had little [formal] education and, even when president of the Royal Academy, could scarcely spell”. One day, his mother left him alone with his little sister Sally. Benjamin discovered some bottles of ink and began to paint Sally’s portrait. When his mother came home, she noticed the painting, picked it up and said, “Why, it’s Sally!”, and kissed him. Later, he noted, “My mother’s kiss made me a painter”.

From these simple origins, he went on to become a major figure in British art history, of which the painting on loan in Denver is a representative.

From 1746 to 1759, West worked in Pennsylvania, mostly painting portraits. While West was in Lancaster in 1756, his patron, a gunsmith named William Henry, encouraged him to paint a Death of Socrates based on an engraving in Charles Rollin’s Ancient History. His resulting composition, which significantly differs from the source, has been called “the most ambitious and interesting painting produced in colonial America”.

Dr William Smith, then the provost of the College of Philadelphia, saw the painting in Henry’s house and decided to become West’s patron, offering him education and, more importantly, connections with wealthy and politically connected Pennsylvanians. During this time West met John Wollaston, a famous painter who had immigrated from London. West learned Wollaston’s techniques for painting the shimmer of silk and satin, and also adopted some of “his mannerisms, the most prominent of which was to give all his subjects large almond-shaped eyes, which clients thought very chic”.

West was a close friend of Benjamin Franklin, whose portrait he painted. Franklin was the godfather of West’s second son, Benjamin.

Benjamin Franklin Drawing Electricity from the Sky, c. 1816, now housed in the Philadelphia Museum of Art


In 1760 West went abroad, first to Italy. Sponsored by Dr. Smith and William Allen, then reputed to be the wealthiest man in Philadelphia, West traveled to Italy in 1760 in the company of the Scot William Patoun, a painter who later became an art collector. In common with many artists, architects, and lovers of the fine arts at that time he conducted a Grand Tour. West expanded his repertoire by copying works of Italian painters such as Titian and Raphael direct from the originals. In Rome he met a number of international neo-classical artists including German-born Anton Rafael Mengs, Scottish Gavin Hamilton, and Austrian Angelica Kauffman.

In August 1763, West arrived in England, on what he initially intended as a visit on his way back to America. In fact, he never returned to America. He stayed for a month at Bath with William Allen, who was also in the country, and visited his half-brother Thomas West at Reading at the urging of his father. In London he was introduced to Richard Wilson and his student Joshua Reynolds. He moved into a house in Bedford Street, Covent Garden. The first picture he painted in England, Angelica and Medora, along with a portrait of General Robert Monckton, and his Cymon and Iphigenia, painted in Rome, were shown at the exhibition in Spring Gardens in 1764.

In 1765, he married Elizabeth Shewell, an American he met in Philadelphia.

Dr Markham, then Headmaster of Westminster School, introduced West to Samuel Johnson, Edmund Burke, Thomas Newton, Bishop of Bristol, James Johnson, Bishop of Worcester, and Robert Hay Drummond, Archbishop of York. All three prelates commissioned work from him. In 1766 West proposed a scheme to decorate St Paul’s Cathedral with paintings. It was rejected by the Bishop of London, but his idea of painting an altarpiece for St Stephen Walbrook was accepted. At around this time he also received acclaim for his classical subjects, such as Orestes and Pylades and The Continence of Scipio.

West was known in England as the “American Raphael.” His Raphaelesque painting of Archangel Michael Binding the Devil is in the collection of Trinity College, Cambridge.

Drummond tried to raise subscriptions to fund an annuity for West, so that he could give up portraiture and devote himself entirely to more ambitious compositions. Having failed in this, he tried—with greater success—to convince King George III to patronise West. West was soon on good terms with the king, and the two men conducted long discussions on the state of art in England, including the idea of the establishment of a Royal Academy. The academy came into being in 1768, with West one of the primary leaders of an opposition group formed out of the existing Society of Artists of Great Britain; Joshua Reynolds was its first president.

West painted around sixty pictures for George III between 1768 and 1801. From 1772 he was described in Royal Academy catalogues as “Historical Painter to the King” and from 1780 he received an annual stipend from the King of £100. In the 1780s he gave drawing lessons to the Princesses and in 1791 he succeeded Richard Dalton as Surveyor of the King’s Pictures.

Between 1776 and 1778 George III commissioned as set of five double or group portraits of his family to hang together in the King’s Closet at St James’s Palace. His Queen and twelve of his children are included in the arrangement (two appear twice); every portrait is filled with action, instruction and affection, making them seem almost like extended versions of the conversation pieces commissioned by George III’s parents. In this double portrait the Queen and the Princess Royal are engaged in tatting a piece of material or embroidery between them; on the table beside the Queen is a bust of Minerva, a sheet of music and papers; in the distance are St James’s Park and Westminster Abbey. As if all this were not improving enough there is a sheet of drawings by Raphael. West was paid 150 guineas for this painting which was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1777.

How did it happen that the Denver Art Museum received major art works from Mrs. Simon Guggenheim?

If you’ve been following my posts recently, you’ve seen me share quite a few artworks from the Denver Art Museum and many of them were donated to the museum by Mrs. Simon Guggenheim.

If you are interested in knowing how this came to happen, you can find the story in these sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Guggenheim

https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/2799

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Simon_Guggenheim_Memorial_Foundation

https://research.frick.org/directory/detail/5263

An odd painting at the Denver Art Museum

The painting is one of a pair illustrating an allegory of male naiveté and the slyness of women. “Civetta” is the Italian word for “screech-owl” but is also used informally to describe a flirtatious woman, or coquette. In the painting male birds are caught in traps set by women using an attractive woman as bait.

Personally I know from my years of living in Florence that a coquettish woman is colloquially called a Civetta in Italy. Perhaps this began as referring to flirtation with large eyes? Whatever it was, that’s the slang.

I’ve never seen a depiction of a game in which owls had men’s heads, but I remembered this 2 part sculptural group in Florence called Il Gioco della Civetta. It still doesn’t seem to be the same game being played in the painting, but until I can get back to Italy, it will remain a mystery to me.

The sculptural group of the The Owl Game (Gioco della Civetta) is located in the Boboli Gardens and consists of two white marble statues depicting two young men while playing. The aim of this game was to take the hat off to the other player who, in order to try to escape, had to bend over continuously (in Italian ‘fare civetta’). Therefore, one character is outstretched to grab the hat, while the other is attempting to deftly dodge the opponent’s move. The jacket of one of the two players is unbuttoned, precisely because of the abrupt movement that he makes by throwing himself backwards, and both figures are supported by tree stumps.

The Owl Game was originally commissioned to a sculptor known as ‘Matteo scultore’ in 1618 and its execution, which lasted for several years, was completed by different artists. The modelling was probably done by Orazio Mochi, who took inspiration from Giambologna’s Uccellatori. The statues were then sculpted by Romolo Ferrucci del Tadda, who left the group unfinished at his death, missing one figure. After various assignments, the work was finally completed by Bartolomeo Rossi in 1622. Unfortunately, The Owl Game in stone deteriorated quickly and got destroyed.

In 1775, Grand Duke Peter Leopold entrusted sculptor Giovanni Battista Capezzuoli with the task of remaking the work and the artist decided to sculpt it out of white marble instead of bigia stone. From the panel of the Giuochi rusticali (Rustic games) made by Vascellini in 1788, the group appeared to be consisting of three figures, while only two figures have survived to present days. When looking at the 18th-century replica, it is no longer possible to distinguish the hands of the various sculptors who worked on the original group in stone: Pizzorusso (1989) attributes the original of the figure on the left to Bartolomeo Rossi and the one on the right to Romolo Ferrucci del Tadda. The realisation in marble of the original group diluted the stylistic features of previous artists. The copyist was inspired by 16th-century representations of ‘peasants’, relying on the narrative and playful style that was typical of 17th-century genre painting.

At any rate, the painting is strange!

Let’s make a quick trip to Japan!

(oh, how I wish!)

At least I can easily visit the Japanese section of the Denver Art Museum without a lot of time or expense. This museum had the good fortune of having a talented Japanese curator for decades, and he built an important collection here in Denver. I taught the subject of Japanese art history at a local university many years ago and I always love tripping to Japan in Denver, or anywhere!

These were not my best attempts at photography or videography that day. Oh well, you can’t win them all!

The Bargello is re-opened

It’s been a long wait, but today I got a ticket and visited the museum.  It was like going home.  And, the crowds were normal, like pre-Covid levels.  That was a bit comforting as well.

Today I took an idiosyncratic group of photos, and skipped taking pictures of the usual suspects that I love so much (Donatello, Desiderio da Settignano et al).  So, enjoy this random group.

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And now, I get a bit more serious with great artwork:

Michelangelo:

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Giambologna:

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Cellini:

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The Ara Pacis, Rome

One of the loveliest, and smallest, museums I like to visit in Rome is the Ara Pacis. On my recent visit to Rome, I enjoyed this almost empty museum.

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My video below captures the interior of the monument, just before a guard told me I couldn’t make a video.

 

 

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Wolves in Florence

Artist Liu Ruowang has a new installation in Florence, as seen below in the Piazza del Palazzo Pitti.

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These metal wolves are meant “to protect” both Piazza Pitti and Santissima Annunziata. The monumental installation, named “The wolves on the way,” is possible thanks to the collaboration between the Municipality of Florence and the Uffizi Galleries and will be on view from 13 July and until 2 November. The work reflects on the excesses of progress in contemporary society, and are on view in Florence, symbol of the Renaissance, in dialogue with two masterpieces of urban architecture, Palazzo Pitti and the Spedale degli Innocenti.

Liu Ruowang’s wants you to reflect on man’s predatory attitude towards nature. The threatening pack of wolves composed of a hundred iron castings, each weighing 280 kg, which seems to attack an unseen warrior. It is an allegory of nature’s response to the ravages and predatory behavior of man towards the environment. And it is, at the same time, a reflection on the values ​​of civilization, on the great uncertainty in which we live today – made even more evident by the dramatic effects of covid-19 – and on the actual risks of an irreversible annihilation of the environment.

Organized thanks to Matteo Lorenzelli, owner of the Milanese Lorenzelli Arte gallery, the exhibition aims to establish a physical, intellectual and even playful link with citizenship, stimulating curiosity and participation, so as to bring a wider audience than those who usually attend exhibitions and museums.

The project was conceived on the occasion of the celebrations of 50 years of diplomatic relations between the Italian Republic and the People’s Republic of China – the latter represented by Consul General Weng Wengang – and made possible by the collaboration between Eike Schmidt, Director of the Uffizi Galleries and Tommaso Sacchi, Councilor for Culture of the Municipality of Florence, who have made available two of the most symbolic spaces in Florence. Incoming Wolves interact freely with the city’s architecture, with its inhabitants or with those who are just passing through, thus responding to a specific intention of the author, who claims that “to teach love and respect for art to new generations , the best method is to bring art into everyday life, making museums increasingly accessible and beyond. My sculptures, for example, are placed in the squares: thus art also creates a link with public spaces.

It is important to build a culture of the common good .” Before arriving in Florence, Liu Ruowang’s wolves had “invaded” Naples, where they had been positioned in Piazza del Municipio. The installation in the Tuscan capital marks an ideal relationship between the mayors Luigi De Magistris and Dario Nardella, who have shown that they believe in the powerful message of the great work of the Chinese artist.

The director of the Uffizi Galleries Eike Schmidt says: “In Piazza Pitti, the pack of wolves that is about to enter the palace through the central door immediately reminds us of the dark counterattack of nature in the classic ‘The birds’ by Alfred Hitchcock, but calls to our mind also the recent experience of many wild species that returned to our city during the recent lockdown.

It is the metaphor of the relationship between man and nature. With the presence of Liu Ruowang’s wolves in our squares – elegant wolves, with a chiseled crown as in the ancient Chinese bronzes – we will have many months to think about how to contribute to respecting the balance of the planet. ”

Liu Ruowang (1977) is one of the major contemporary Chinese artists. Sculptor and painter, his is an original path placed in the wake of the Chinese tradition, and which amalgamates transversal elements with peculiar aspects of his tradition. Starting from the consideration that the history of man is also the history of his relationship with nature, the Chinese artist draws, on the one hand, from the culture of his country and on the other to the western one, and through references to globalization, represents the multiplication of the various real and virtual identities. The philosophical dimension of Liu Ruowang is also a real denunciation of the risks caused by the loss of human values, mortified by the oppressive system of contemporary life, theater of pain and violence.

“The upcoming Lupi installation is the result of the production of the last decade which must be considered fully the artistic maturity of Liu Ruowang. Behind the monumentality of the installation, moreover, there is an aspect dear to the East as to the West, the central pivot of all Liu Ruowang’s production, namely the ability to polarize the environment and space through a simple and sublime, which adapts the epic tones of the myth to today’s civilization, dominated by scientific and technological progress, increasingly in conflict with the natural order. ”