Thiebaud is a pop artist who mostly paints cakes and pastries and bubble gum in candy colors, but he’s also branched out into other subjects to apply that bright color palette to.
I dealt with one of the elements of this painting for more hours than I wanted to today and not the one I’d choose. Traffic sucks. And I could spend endless hours with the cat.
I like the dreamscape like quality of this – the rising towers based on San Francisco skyline combined with curving traffic lanes and colorful cars that resemble a winding slot car set wrapping around Lego towers.
All observed on that balcony by the little black and white cat. Maybe it is a toy set, and the cat is stalking the moving toy cars. My cat did that to my Hot Wheels cars when I was a kid, after all.
Such a simple and pretty concept well executed, and – hey look! – Thiebaud sold this one for EIGHT HUNDRED NINETY THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS????
I didn’t bet the first day of the Breeders’ Cup Races today, but I’ll be handicapping and betting the final pick 6 sequence tomorrow, most likely with a pick 5 and pick 4 combo along with some bets on the 12th classic race too. The Triple Crown races get a lot more attention, but these feature the best overall horses in the world, the best up and coming prospects, and are VERY challenging to handicap.
So it’s time to flush some money away, I guess.
Rosa Bonheur was one of the better-known animal painters of the late 19th century. While well known in her native France, she found a lot more success in Britain and America, and in her late career painted settings right at home in the American west, like this one.
All we need is for John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart to walk up to that horse, talk to it a little, and then ride off to fight some bad guys. Look how she uses those different shades of brown to capture the musculature of a strong horse like that, and the way you see it reflected in the different shines of the coat. Nice purples in the sky, too. It’s a beautiful picture.
I hope my bets are as beautiful tomorrow. Tally ho!
Another damn natural wind event, another rash of giant fires, none of which are sparked by natural phenomena. It’s faulty power equipment left unrepaired by scuzball utilities squeezing every last dime of profit out of people, out-of-sight/out-of-mind cooking fires by what I actually saw in a news item today referred as “urban campers.”
Gee, I wonder what that fabulous euphemism is a substitute for? And God forbid such “urban campers” cooking food or meth (oh, excuse me, not supposed to say that, bad manners) during windstorms among dry brush are actually CLEARED OUT BY LAW ENFORCEMENT BEFORE WINDS GET GOING.
I forget, they’re super-citizens who don’t answer to any law. They live directly off the land, like Daniel Boone, before they start fires that burn up entire neighborhoods overnight.
And just to make sure California maintains economic diversity and breaks down the barriers of class, the other scumbags starting fires from the electric utilities are all fairly wealthy. So everyone is in on the action.
Or there’s always good ol’ cars backfiring, or arson. We’ve got a full menu.
One of these fires is on the other side of the city from me, a good and hopefully will stay safe 10 plus miles away.
But I am sick of this.
I can address the aforementioned scumbag utility company turning off my electricity during windy weather in order to cover their asses from lawsuits resulting from them not maintaining their equipment by adding a battery backup to my house, which is in progress. But I can’t seem to do anything about the stupid mismanagement of land, of non-existent cutting and brush clearing, of making giant graft-spreading “public” utilities maintain their equipment, or of addressing blatantly obvious sources of trouble like groups of unbalanced and often mentally ill drug addicts fending for themselves in dry washes cooking with open fires left to their own devices instead of being treated/dealt with/sheltered/moved along. I’d like to see attempted arsonists shot on sight. But my vote is outnumbered or ballot-harvested away by countless morons who keep voting in the same corrupt incompetents over and over again.
End of rant.
Did my rant start the fire under Bambi’s ass though? Well, not quite – that amazing sequence from the 1942 film is put together beautifully – the fire and falling embers-into-exploding-flame effects are realistic and truly scary. The color palette for those backgrounds and the fireshadows on the Great Prince and Bambi as they flee the burning forest bring home the heat and danger at every turn.
Disney made his animators go to art school and for Bambi, had them re-train to illustrate forest animals realistically. For background design, they brought in artist Tyrus Wong, a production designer for multiple Hollywood films, as well as mural art around Los Angeles, to get the natural backgrounds of the forest correctly. (And being Disney, fired him right after an animator’s strike.)
Bambi credits David Hand as supervising director along with a number of sequence directors – I cannot find a source giving me the specific sequence director for the forest fire, so I’ll offer my own theory. One of the credited sequence directors is Bill Roberts.
Since Disney had an established practice of trying out visual material in their comic shorts before placing them in features, I’d be pretty sure that Bill Roberts, the director of the Mickey & Pluto short “Society Dog Show” from 1939 definitely had a lot to do with this scene, since the climax of “Society Dog Show” has to do with Pluto rescuing another dog from a fire that breaks out on stage. While the flames look more cartoony here (as do the animals), the camera angles and narrow escapes from fire danger match up quite nicely.
I’m happy to be safe in my home and able to watch cartoons with fires burning elsewhere.
Mannerist paintings from the late Renaissance can often be a little bizarre, with long necks and weirdly shaped bodies… but this one, with it’s matching clown faced Jesus & Mary, has got to be my favorite.
I can’t believe a church actually hung this up after commissioning it. I guess I can understand whatever Tsar bought it for the Hermitage where it remains today. Hell, I’d put this on my wall just for laughs.
Jesus as baby Danny Bonaduce after the accident? Works for me.
Rosso came from Florence, but left Italy after one of the numerous sacks of Rome in the 1500s and wound up getting a steady position at the court of Francis I, the King of France.
To be fair, some of his other work is quite good – Descent From The Cross (1521) is considered his masterpiece, and it looks quite modern.
The stiffness of those bodies, the sharp lines and the colors reminds me of some Twentieth Century mural art. Here’s another one in the same style, Moses Defending The Daughters of Jethro, from 1523:
Same color palette, but this time those stiff bodies are slightly curvier.
Make them even more curvy, and I think you wind up with Thomas Hart Benton, which is why I find some of Rosso’s work so modern:
I mean, look at Benton’s People of Chilmark from 1920 – brighter colors, yeah, curvier bodies… but somehow the same vibe.
Even if Charlton Heston fought off those goat herders (including a young Mike Connors) without getting nekkid.
But Benton could have never come up with this kisser
Maybe Todd Phillips will make his dark-origins Taxi Driver-derivative film. Bethlehem as 1970s New York. I think it works, don’t you?
In the meantime, I’ll never tire of wondering what Rosso’s 1522 audience thought of his depiction of the Madonna & Child. Was there some sort of Susan Sontag-let’s-appreciate-kitsch movement lost to history? Or did they just think the world was ending and it didn’t matter anyway?
Or trying to rest, while I keep one eye on the fire burning many miles away and another eye on the chance that my electricity might be turned off, since I’m in an area of North Korea California where they’re allowed to turn off people’s power so that they don’t have to pay for fires their unmaintained equipment causes.
Gee, I wish I had connections like that, don’t you?
So today’s theme is “feeling sick.” And while I’m not a victim of what may have actually been plague in Goya’s painting of Arrieta saving his life (which is what the inscription reads). Arrieta had studied plague and yellow fever in North Africa around this time, so it’s a plausible theory. Or, Goya was already in questionable health and was in his 70s, so he might have had a cold like mine and simply felt like he was gonna die.
Look at the doc, making the house call and also playing nurse – holding up the ailing Goya as he grips his bed sheet, while trying to get that glass of what I assume is medicine down as shadowy figures observe in the background.
Are they maids or servants? Doctor’s assistants? Ghosts and demons awaiting Goya, perhaps… sounds like something he’d throw in there.
Arietta would cure Goya, who’d live another 8 years. Goya painted this as a gift for Arietta. Hopefully he also paid his bill.
Maybe I’ll muster up enough energy to make some more mediocre football picks in another post later. Or maybe I’ll just take a nap.
Vuillard was a member of the Nabis, a group of French painters at the turn of the 19th to 20th centuries interested in composing pictures mixing tons of colors and patterns, mostly to create interior scenes inspired by Japanese prints. Later on, he painted more realistic scenes, although he continued to fill his canvases with a multitude of vibrant colors.
Duret, the subject of this portrait, was an art critic who wrote kindly of impressionists and post-impressionists and fauvists and Nabis and other assorted then-contemporary painters. With other critics often savaging them, I can see why Vuillard paints Duret so positively. He’s got his room filled with papers stacked high, some paintings on the wall – including a representation of Whistler’s portrait of Duret as a younger man reflected in the mirror in the upper right.
In a way, this creates a narrative of sorts for Duret’s life – we see that fuzzy mirror image of the portrait of the young man, well dressed in dark tails, hat in hand, ready to go out and review some piece of high culture, maybe. And now he sits as an older accomplished man, dignified with stacks of papers and books across his desk.
And most importantly – he’s got a cat in his lap. The BEST sign of success there is. And a hat-tip to Vuillard for capturing, in those impressionistic brush strokes, the annoyed look on the cat’s face that her routine has been interrupted by posing for the artist.
Dunno… I guess I sorta see myself in that painting. Just an old dude with a kitty, in a room piled high with books and papers. Life goals, y’know? Meow.
Here’s a bonus Vuillard, I like this one a lot because of it’s bright colors – and you can tell he’s gotten a bit more realistic with it, La Salle Clarac from 1922.
I love the thinking behind this photo: “Tell me what I’m not allowed to do, and I’m going to do it just to flip you off.”
And what a great photo! A decade before film noir got going, and possibly what woulda been a fantastic lobby poster for a great sleazy murder story.
The photographer, A. L “Whitey” Schafer is, unfortunately, far lesser known than the more famous studio still photographers who specialized in glamour shots of the contract actresses. George Hurell or Clarence Sinclair Bull. He started out working for Thomas Ince in the early ’20s, moved on to run the photography department at Columbia by 1935, and then took over Paramount’s photo department in 1941. He died in a freak accident aboard a friend’s yacht in 1951. A stove exploded as he attempted to light it.
Schafer explained his technique of staging photos in an article for amateur photographers in Popular Science in 1943. Basically, never photograph anyone against a blank background (unless their outfit’s lines and patterns will draw the eye). Always have something there to frame them, and use those backgrounds to balance and frame the subject.
Here’s his publicity shot of Barbara Stanwyck for Double Indemnity (1944)
He uses that hat/coat rack in back of her, along with that rather loud necklace, to frame the soft shadows of her face. And is she ever in character for this one.
Don’t trust her, Fred MacMurray! Go back to Edward G. Robinson, he’s the true love of your life.
Shadows in the background can also be used for framing, especially when you want to emphasize darkness over light. How about some Marlene Deitrich?
Every now and then, some contemporary celeb will pose for black and white glamour shots like these, but it’s sadly a rarer and rarer art.
But kudos to Schafer, especially on that screw you to the Hays Code. In our current environment of overzealous speech policing, it’d be nice to see more of the same artful defiance from people these days.
Davis, an American artist from Philadelphia, started out influenced by Cubism, and then evolved into someone more interested in mixing symbols with his geometric shapes. I like all of his styles, but when he did material like Place Pasdeloup, the simple gray-black outlines of city corners and streets, combined with the solid blocks of color and primitive hand lettering, remind me of the backgrounds in old UPA cartoons.
Like this one:
Davis loved painting everyday objects like gas pumps or egg beaters, breaking them down into those wonderfully abstract geometric shapes and color blocks. He’d try to illustrate motifs and ideas he heard in Jazz, and influenced a lot of the pop artists of the 1960s.
Place Pasdeloup certainly looks empty and peaceful. Just an empty corner, no people, despite the sunny day and that wonderful scrawl in the sky – is it a wispy cloud? The path of a bird? A giant alien piece of string? Whatever it is, it just looks like it’s having a good time up there.
And the colors – the black against the yellow, opposite the French flag colors with some green on the bottom… all wonderfully balanced.
Ronner-Knip was a Dutch artist of the late 19th century who started out painting farms and animals, and after 1870, nearly exclusively painted cats.
Fluffy, pretty cats, too! Just look at that adorable momma cat and her kittens. Cats and kittens playing, or napping, or just sittin’ around looking adorable became her specialty, and she was one of the most widely known and popular woman painters in Europe during her lifetime.
She’d continue to paint cats just as pretty as this until her death. Unlike Louis Wain, an artists I really have to talk about more on here since his descent into CAT MADNESS makes me wonder about my own future, her style of painting them really didn’t change.
But cats’ beauty and elegance is eternal, isn’t it? Happy Friday!
This is one of two fragments of a lost triptych that’s attributed to Bosch because, well, come on! Nobody else in the entire history of art painted messed up visions of hell like this!
My favorite part of this are the two walking nun’s heads in the lower right. The Bosch visions of hell found in various triptych panels of his feature so many mutants, demons and animals dressed in human clothes torturing or sodomizing sinners in the underworld that after a while they start to look like weird acid trippy cartoons designed to scare kids on Saturday mornings. I’d like to think that’s why the churches hired Bosch to paint this stuff to put on display every week at Mass. What better way for the illiterates out there to get Clive Barker-esque imagery to match the sermon’s warnings about the results of sins?
This panel is also known as “The Death of the Reprobate,” who I assume is the central figure in the bed surrounded by demons and debauchery, never mind the weird lizards and spider-scorpion-thing on the floor.
Back to my favorite: those two walking monk & nun’s heads, a matching set. I’d like to hear them offering some sort of Statler & Waldorf commentary on the sins of the reprobate, with a few good punch lines.
I love Bosch. There’s always so much going on in his monster-sized tableau, always a new bit of weirdness to pick up on and wonder WTF? Breugel would do similar stuff, and while works like “The Triumph of Death” approach Bosch levels of horror movie weirdness, Bosch’s unreal creatures and mutations make the difference. The idea of people actually believing the reality of the cosmos he painted is mind blowing. In modern movies, we get deformed hell-demons and the like, whether it’s pea-soup vomiting Linda Blair or the apartment house full of demonic carnival freaks conjured up by Burgess Meredith at the end of The Sentinel (a must see item!), but Bosch’s stuff just looks… well…. comical. It’s like Charles Addams drew hell, or something only a few steps away from what Don Martin might have come up with.
After all, we all know hell really looks like this: