The Magic of Movement

As an extension of an earlier post (Art and the Pursuit of Nature) I wanted to talk about the sense of movement found in Italian art. Early paintings were 2-D, as in the rest of the world, but as the art moved towards more realistic body images and 3-D shapes it also worked to create a sense of movement.

Paintings were essentially the “movies” of the Renaissance period, as the strides in art were the technological advancements equivocal to today’s increasing prowess in special effects. Paintings were the most accurate means of capturing life as it was, and for the first time, artists were truly pursuing reality instead of some artistic ideal. As the painters improved their skill in the area of shadow and dimension, they also refined their ability to make the people look alive, capturing the musculature of their bodies and the expressions on their face, as well as the movement of their clothes and bodies. This was a new and exciting idea for this time, though it may seem mundane to us now.

Part of the reason that it is hard for many people today to appreciate art in the same way as medieval peoples is that we are used to watching things move, and therefore have a very short attention span. We look at a painting for a few seconds, ten at the most, and feel that we have taken what there is to take from it. But this was not the case in the past. Paintings were given much attention, as their vitality and movement was almost difficult for the mind to comprehend. So therefore, if we let ourselves slow down and fully experience a painting, however old, it may come to life and show us something we have not seen before.

Art and the Pursuit of Nature

My Art and Culture class has been moving through the history of Italian art for the last five weeks and looking at how it changed over time. Out of context one picture may look much like another, but on a spectrum the changes incurred throughout late Middle Ages and Renaissance in Italian art are amazing. Egyptian art remained exactly the same for about 3,000 years. Eastern art also remained the same for a very long time (the history buff in me wishes I could quote exactly how long—I’ll get back to you on that). But Italian art blossomed.

In about three centuries artists were able to go from entirely two-dimensional looking works of art to paintings that seemed completely 3-D. This evolution was most evident in the paintings we saw at the Galleria degli Uffizi Firenze (which I also wrote about yesterday).

We take art that seems three dimensional for granted now days. The creation of photography and film has allowed us to capture life as accurately as possible and it is no longer necessary to do so by hand through painting. But in the Middle Ages no such luxuries were available.

Medieval people were deeply religious, and it was this religious consciousness that helped them to grow as artists. They knew that God became Man in the form of Jesus Christ, thus elevating man and giving him new dignity, and it was this perfection that was achieved in Jesus Christ that they were attempting to grasp in their art. This is also what caused them to try are represent nature more and more accurately, hence the 3-D ideas that permeated early Renaissance art.

We take 3-D for granted because everything around us is 3-D. We often try to reverse this trend of replicating nature, especially in abstract and modern art. It was so humbling to think about the artists of the Renaissance, trying to capture things that had never been captured before. We saw one of the first paintings to ever have shadows. Wouldn’t that be so amazing to be the first person to think of painting something with a shadow? And isn’t that something we take for granted now? It is these historic and artistic details that make a semester like this—in Italy, studying art—so worthwhile, not only because it helps us to see what has led to the world that we live in, but also because it reminds us that there is more to life than meets the eye, and that every part of our lives is just the culmination of the lives of so many that came before us.

Peace.

Why A Museum is Like a Supermarket

A little less than two weeks ago we visited Galleria degli Uffizi Firenze, whose title is extremely boring when translated—The Gallery of the Offices of Florence. The building itself was built to use as offices during the rule of the Medici family in 16^th Century Florence. At the end of the Medici family’s rule (also during the 16^th Century) the last remaining heiress, Anna Maria Louisa, negotiated a famous agreement with the Tuscan government that required Tuscan authorities to maintain the Medici family’s huge art collection as property of the State, creating one of the first museums in the Western world.

Needless to say, this museum is insane. Museums in the United States just might not do it for me anymore. In about an hour I saw my first da Vinci, several paintings by Michelangelo, and works by Caravaggio, Botticelli, and Giotto, to name just a few. Francesco told us to think about the fact that every piece we passed without even a second glance was worth more than we would probably make in our entire lifetime. A sobering thought to say the least—on both the art and the rest of our lives.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="Birth of Venus, by Botticelli"][/caption]

From the original Roman busts that line the hallway (tell me that those wouldn’t be behind 3 inch think bulletproof, heat sensing glass if they were in the United States) to literally thousands of pre-Renaissance and Renaissance paintings, altarpieces, and other works of art, it very well could take a lifetime to appreciate even a good chunk of the work in this museum.

But, just as we were all starting to get overwhelmed with how much there was there to appreciate, Francesco gave us a valuable lesson about museums that I plan on carrying with me through the rest of my life. A museum is like a supermarket, he told us, you have to go in with a list of what you’re looking for, or you’ll try to buy everything. Because he was there with us we just hit the highlights, but that’s okay. Really, that’s the only way to do it. As part of our modern world we often want to experience everything as quickly as possible, as intensely as possible. Therefore a whirlwind, headache-inducing museum sweep might seem like a day well spent. But is it?

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="466" caption="Doni Tondo, by Michelangelo"][/caption]

This leads us to the question of why we go to museums in the first place. Is it to say we’ve seen as many priceless works as possible, even if we don’t really remember them for themselves? Or is it to truly experience something greater than being able to put a check next to “See the Birth of Venus” on our bucket list?

I think the metaphor of a supermarket can be extended into this aspect of museum going as well. We go to the grocery store to buy what will nourish us. We go with the rest of our lives in mind. We know if company is coming we buy something extra, or if we’re going to be home alone we buy a little less. But we never need everything.

I think it’s the same with museums. There are things going on in other facets of our life that influence what art our spirits can draw the most nourishment from. Maybe “The Birth of the Venus” is the famous painting in this room, but the lonely one across the way is the one that really speaks to us.

In a nutshell, never feel guilty about not “seeing everything” in a museum. Do your homework beforehand and know what you’re looking for. Look at what interests you. Above all, let things speak to you, and if they’re not, move on. Something will.

Peace.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="467" caption="Medusa, by Caravaggio"][/caption]