Caravaggio, The Entombment of Christ, 1602-1603. Oil on Canvas, 120 in. × 80 in.; Pinacoteca Vaticana, Vatican City.

Caravaggio, The Entombment of Christ, 1602-1603. Oil on Canvas, 120 in. × 80 in.; Pinacoteca Vaticana, Vatican City.

This weekend, someone told me they like the crazy artists. Caravaggio is one of them.

Vilhelm Hammershoi, Interior with a Girl at the Clavier, 1901. Oil on canvas.

Vilhelm Hammershoi, Interior with a Girl at the Clavier, 1901. Oil on canvas.

Hammershoi is a Danish painter known for his quiet and calm paintings. He is most famous for his lack of bright colors, and instead, opts for muted ones. His work is often described as melancholy, as the figures are always turned away from the viewer.

I wouldn’t necessarily call his work melancholy. I love the muted tones, especially the blue in the wall with the white patches of paint scattered across it. It feels as though I’m not looking right into a scene, a cloud is covering my vision. It gives it such a soft and ethereal touch.

However, in this painting, Interior with a Girl at the Clavier, I feel as though I am invading the girl’s privacy. I stand behind a table to keep my distance from her, in case she hears me. Maybe I feel this way because that’s how I view my piano–it’s my space to practice, to make mistakes, to read my sheet music. That’s probably why I enjoy the Steinart practice rooms at Brown, so much. Even though they are these strange boxes you step into, you can lock the door, they are soundproof. You can practice without any distractions. And that’s what I think Hammershoi captured so well.

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Johannes Vermeer, The Milkmaid, 1657. Oil on canvas, 17 7/8 in. x 16 1/8 in., 45.5 cm x 41 cm; Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Johannes Vermeer, The Milkmaid, 1657. Oil on canvas, 17 7/8 in. x 16 1/8 in., 45.5 cm x 41 cm; Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Over Thanksgiving break, I went to New York City and of course, when you are in New York City, you have to make a stop at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This was only my second time visiting–and this time, I had a lot more time. What’s so great is that the Met is so busy, so full of life, with crowds of people walking in and out all the time. With more time, I realized how large the museum was and how much art it held–it was overwhelming (in a good way).

It is impossible to go to the Met for one day and even try to appreciate, or even simply look, at every piece of artwork. There were so many Courbet, Degas, Manet, Miro paintings that I had learned about, had never seen, and I wanted to give them each the time they deserved. And then, you also want to go to the special exhibitions. If I lived in New York, I would go to the Met every weekend to just stay in one wing or even just a few rooms to understand each piece of artwork.

The day before I was to go to the Met, I didn’t even know that they were holding a exhibition on Vermeer until my friend told me. It could not have been better timing–because it was the second to last day of the exhibition. I could not contain my excitement. To see a painting, in person, up close, by your favorite painter is not something you can describe.

Being so close to the painting made me nervous. I could see every single crack and it felt like the painting was just going to collapse right in front of me. But being so close also reminded me why I love Vermeer so much. His use of color is so vibrant. The blue in the milkmaid’s dress is no blue that you could find in a box of crayons, it is so bright and contrasts so well with the red that it immediately catches your eye. And his use of light is so delicate–slowly shading the back, white wall and subtleties of the light from the window hitting the milkmaid’s hand.

My favorite part of the painting is the bread. You could never tell from looking at a reprint online, but Vermeer paints the bread with single dots that blend together to form the texture of the bread. It is such a meticulous and delicate technique–but it makes the bread that much more real, more tangible.

The exhibition also had only a few of his other paintings. I loved seeing the cartography in the background of his paintings and it must have taken him so many months to just paint the maps, as they are so detailed. It was also just so great to see so many people in the small room, so eager to see all of Vermeer’s paintings. It was nice to be amongst people standing for more than five minutes to admire Vermeer’s beautiful work.

Other paintings:

Ilia Efimovich Repin’s Vsevolod Mikhailovich Garshin

What a great capture of a mentally struggling writer.

Norman Rockwell’s Town Meeting

It reminds me of my childhood, when I would look through my cousin’s oversized Norman Rockwell book. Doesn’t this painting just inspire you?

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Johannes Vermeer. Girl With a Pearl Earring, c. 1665. Oil on canvas, 44.5 cm × 39 cm (17.5 in × 15.4 in); The Hauge, Mauritshuis.

Johannes Vermeer. Girl With a Pearl Earring, c. 1665. Oil on canvas, 44.5 cm × 39 cm (17.5 in × 15.4 in); The Hauge, Mauritshuis.

I love Jan Vermeer, but I wasn’t really interested in this painting. And I have to admit that I am putting this painting up because I want to talk about the 2003 film. However, I do want to say a few things about this painting. It is interesting how one thing–this pearl–completely changes the painting. The pearl becomes the focal point and makes it unique. If it were not there, would this painting be as “special”? I am inclined to believe “yes,” because I think there is something very pretty about the blue head wrap that is so bright and the slight, awkward parting of the young woman’s lips.

The 2003 film of the same name is based on the the fictitious novel of the same name, that tells of how Jan Vermeer came to create the painting. I have not yet read the novel, but just recently saw the film. In it, Vermeer, played by Colin Firth, is married with a family and hires a second house maid, Griet, played by Scarlett Johansson, who really does look like the girl in the painting. Griet and Vermeer become very close as she becomes his muse for a few paintings. She then sits for him, wearing his wife’s pearl earring, therefore creating Girl With a Pearl Earring.

The movie was a quiet one–there wasn’t much talking between Vermeer and Griet. I have seen self-portraits of Vermeer, but I had forgotten that he had long hair, so it kind of a shock to see Firth with long hair. I enjoyed the historical accuracy, like Vermeer showing Griet his camera obscura or Vermeer manually mixing his colors.

I know this story is fake, but I feel that the girl inside me just really, really want to believe it.

J

Joseph William Turner. The Slave Ship, 1840. Oil on canvas, 35 3/4 x 48 1/4 in; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Joseph William Turner. The Slave Ship, 1840. Oil on canvas, 35 3/4 x 48 1/4 in; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Joseph Turner was a Romantic landscape painter obsessed with depicting the sea/ocean in times of violence or destruction. And in this painting, he was showing slaves being thrown overboard when crossing the Atlantic Ocean during the 18th century. It is said that Turner was inspired by two things–the Zong Massacre and James Thomson’s poem, The Seasons.

I remember seeing this painting at the Museum of Fine Arts and being so completely struck by the rough brushstrokes. It’s so easy to simply “get lost” in this painting with all the colors and figures of bodies. The light of the sun emerging from the background is so serene and beautiful that it starkly contrasts with the dead bodies in the foreground.

A few weeks later, after I had already forgot about this painting, I read about it in Gombrich’s The Story of Art for my art history class. The painting, printed in a book, had no effect on me. I had no recollection of seeing it in person and I actually thought the painting was bland. I just read through the text quickly and moved on to the next page.

So, when going through my iPhoto, and seeing a photo of this painting, I was kind of embarrassed. Mostly because I had “liked” this painting so much in person and then dismissed it in print. But then it just reminded me the great difference between seeing a work in person versus in print. The museum, the other paintings surrounding it, and being able to see it up close, to see the textures, the size, the real colors, makes such an impact.

J

Carrot

Carrot by Greg Young, 2004, Oil on canvas

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Georges-Pierre Seurat. The Seine at Le Grande Jatte, 1888. Oil on canvas, 25 5/8 x 32 1/4 in; Musee Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels.

Georges-Pierre Seurat. The Seine at Le Grande Jatte, 1888. Oil on canvas, 25 5/8 x 32 1/4 in; Musee Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels.

Seurat brought science and art together. He used the technique, pointillism–painting with small dots of primary colors that create the impression of secondary and tertiary colors. The idea was based on breaking color so that, when looked from afar, it creates a mixture of colors.

With summer quickly approaching, I was drawn to the blues that create the ocean, even with the yellow and the red dots. It makes me excited for the bright sun and blue ocean, even though we don’t sail in California.

But really, I chose this painting because Seurat reminds me of my first encounter with art history. In elementary school, we had these lectures, Masters of Painting. I’m not sure if that is the correct name. But I remember all the fourth, fifth, and sixth graders filing into the “library,” sitting cross-legged, shoulder to shoulder, and we’d look at art slides, with each time being a different artist. I used to love them because they were like a mini-fieldtrip, but I sometimes got in trouble because I couldn’t stay silent for an hour and a half. And after every lecture, we’d return to our classrooms and attempt to emulate or imitate the artist’s technique. I remember after the lecture about Seurat, we were given Q-tips, paint, and paper. With the Q-tips we painted enormous dots, that were actually really ugly, but I guess the point was that we understood the technique of pointillism. I’m angry at myself for not appreciating these lectures and experiences at the time.

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Édouard Manet. The Rue Mosnier with Flags, 1878. Oil on canvas, 25 3/4 x 31 3/4 in; J. Paul Getty Museum, California.

Édouard Manet. The Rue Mosnier with Flags, 1878. Oil on canvas, 25 3/4 x 31 3/4 in; J. Paul Getty Museum, California.

I don’t like to admit that I love Impressionism. It’s because in every museum there is a room for Impressionism and Post-Impressionism paintings and that one room is always flooded with people. And I don’t want to be lumped in with those people. But there is a reason that this artwork is so popular–it’s easy to understand and easy on the eyes. It isn’t some “history” painting, but a colorful and beautiful image of nature.

I usually don’t like Manet paintings that much, but seeing this painting in person this past Spring Break changed my opinion of Manet. Even though he was an Impressionist (Realist, then Impressionist, after meeting Monet), he still used a lot of black in his paintings. And it seems like this painting is a departure from that. The red, white, and blue of the French flags really stand out and grab the viewers’ eyes.

There is something in this painting that makes me so happy–I don’t think it is just the colors, it might be the “patriotic” feeling or something else. I can’t really pinpoint it.

J

Johannes Vermeer. The Little Street, 1657-1658. Oil on canvas, 54.3 cm × 44 cm, 21.4 in × 17.3 in; Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Johannes Vermeer. The Little Street, 1657-1658. Oil on canvas, 54.3 cm × 44 cm, 21.4 in × 17.3 in; Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Once again, I judged a Northern painter. Like I did with Jan Van Eyck, I thought Jan Vermeer was boring. I was uninterested in Dutch paintings, and I know I am making a very large statement here, but I think most people are uninterested in Dutch paintings. It is probably because most of the time, we are exposed to Southern painting–Da Vinci, Raphael, Michelangelo–those names are all familiar to us, and their style of painting is, as well. But when I finally learned about Dutch painting, its techniques, style, and themes, I became to appreciate it so much more.

Jan Vermeer is probably most famously known for his paintings depicting Delft (especially View of Delft). He specialized in domestic interior scenes of everyday life, many of his painting are of women accomplishing domestic chores. He also uses bright colors, most notably blue and yellow.

The technique he used is called pointillé (not pointilism), where patterns were formed like punched dots. Vermeer understood the eye and the way it worked so well, that he painted based on the way the eye would receive the picture. So, in The Little Street, Vermeer didn’t completely paint the cobblestones (in fact, he never outlines any of his figures with black) because he knew that the eye would pick up the colors and shapes and automatically know that they were cobblestones.

The image copied for this post does not do the real painting justice. The colors aren’t as bright and certain features aren’t as distinct. But other than that, this painting is so simple–I feel like Vermeer just wants to show us what Dutch life was like. It’s so calm and the two women appear to be very concentrated on their work, as though they are not affected by a viewer or others. Vermeer was able to make ordinary life so beautiful.

J

Roy Lichtenstein. Interior with Mirrored Wall, 1991. Oil on canvas, 126 1/8 x 160 inches; Guggenheim Museum, New York.

Roy Lichtenstein. Interior with Mirrored Wall, 1991. Oil on canvas, 126 1/8 x 160 inches; Guggenheim Museum, New York.

Roy Lichtenstein described pop art as not “American” painting, but “industrial” painting.

Towards the end of his life, he began to experiment with painting mirrors and Interior with Mirrored Wall is an example of just that. He was inspired by furniture advertisements he found in telephone books, and created a series of works portraying domestic environments. Lichtenstein also liked showing the “gleam” in objects, as seen by the mirror and the grand piano in this work.

This piece is just, simply put–charming. There is this “quaintness” in the extremely straight lines and the Benday dots and stripes on the ground that creates the illusion of a carpet. Also, there is a stark contrast between the couch–that is completely outlined, but white, with the exceptions of the off-white and red cushions–and the plants–that are not outlined, but are so richly green.

For some reason, the furniture in this piece reminds me of the furniture I had as a child for my dollhouse.

J