When Rome Met Christianity

Basilica Ulpia
Trajan's Forum. Rome. c. 110-113 CE.

The Basilica Ulpia, constructed by the infamous Roman emperor Trajan, served as an important civic center and court of law.  Situated in the heart of Rome, the Basilica Ulpia and the Forum of Trajan became a thriving city locale, featuring governmental offices, magnificent libraries housing the emperor's collections of Latin and Greek manuscripts, and over 150 shops.  Despite its socio-political appeal, however, it is in truth the architecture of the Basilica Ulpia that drew such crowds near and made it so important in the context of its influence on later architectural tradition.

A basilica  was a large, rectangular building with a considerably extensive interior space for conducting governmental functions.  Typically these structures were arranged in a specific layout, adhering to an architectural trend popular in Imperial Rome.  The Basilica Ulpia, however, was a particularly grand example of this trend--a reflection of the commissioned emperor's wealth, power, and desire for recognition and legacy.

Oriented around a longitudinal axis,  the Basilica Ulpia stretched 385 feet long and 182 feet wide in its core dimension.  The large central area, known as the nave, would engulf visitors upon their entrance, reducing them to a size noticeably less significant than their majestic surroundings.   Flanking the nave on either side were double colonnaded aisles topped by open galleries or a clerestory.  The naturalness, and seemingly unfathomable height, of the lighting provided by the clerestory would cast a heavenly glow from above, bathing the resplendent columns and marble and creating an atmosphere intentionally other-wordly.

The basilica itself would later become the archetypal building structure for the later emergence of Christian architecture. Note-worthy characteristics of the structure that distinguish it from this very similar development, however, are, firstly, its openness and intimacy with the outside and/or natural world, and secondly, the continuance of the lavishness of the interior into the exterior.  These two things, reminiscent of the temples of Ancient Greece, are somewhat diminished in Christian architecture so as to emphasize a distinct transition between the outside world and that of the divine.  

Oratory of Galla Placidia
Ravenna. c. 425-426

The Oratory of Galla Placidia is one of the oldest surviving Christian structures located in Ravenna.  This small chapel was attached to the narthex of the church of the imperial palace and named for Honorius' half-sister, Galla Placidia, who was the daughter of the Western Roman Emperor, wife of a Gothic king, mother of Emperor Valentinian, and ruler of the West from 425 to about 440.  Following the belief that she and her family were buried within, the oratory was once known rather as the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia.

Constructed during the time of Emperor Constantine's shift of Rome's capital to the Eastern city of Constantinople (Byzantium), the Oratory of Galla Placidia exhibits several important architectural transitions, from traditional Roman into Early Christian.  In this structure, we see the beginning of the development of the cruciform shape--an architectural element that would become crucial to later Christian churches.  (Though the cruciform shape allowed, structurally, for the addition of a choir and other such later developments, the central appeal of this particular style of  church was perhaps that it reflected the cross upon which Christ was crucified and called to mind the importance of his sacrifice to the Christian theology.) We also see a marked contrast from the exterior of this structure and those of traditional Rome; while the lofty, serene,  and open-aired temples of the Roman forum immediately called to mind the grandest realms of the divine, this seemingly modest structure requires an entrance into its guarded interior in order to experience its majesty.

Once inside, viewers would be confronted with an elaborate, richly colorful, and intimate space.  The drastic contrast between humble exterior and beautifully jeweled inner chambers served to intensify the experience of the building, the metaphysical transition from the mundane human world into a sacred heavenly realm.  Featuring a pendentive dome in the center, the interior of the oratory is covered from head to toe in brilliant glass mosaics depicting images of Christ as the Good Shepherd, the four Evangelists, and a calming star-strewn sky allusive to an Early Medieval cosmology.  A thin layer of yellow marble covers the windows, giving a fiery glow to the space and further exaggerating the supernatural world in which one is partaking.  This particular aspect would be a sort of precursor to the use of stained glass in later Christian architecture as a source of divine light.  

One of the most important features of the Oratory of Galla Placidia, however, is the iconography present among its remarkable mosaics.  For the first time, people were using images to tell specific stories in a specific context--something that would be essential to Christianity and Christian architecture throughout its reign.  The image of Christ as the Good Shepherd over the entrance to the building, for example, shows him clothed in regal gold and purple robes, keeping loyal watch over his flock.  He is no longer the young boy in a simple tunic, but a divine emperor wreathed in a glorious halo and carrying a golden crossed staff.  This depiction of the Heavenly Father reflects Christianity's standing as the official state religion for 45, signifying the triumph of a new faith.

The Parthenon

a.               The curvature on the exterior of the Parthenon is an architectural element whose purpose has been much debated.  The three main theories, as documented by Pollitt, are the compensation theory, the exaggeration theory, and the tension theory.  The first suggests that the variations are “‘betterments’ to counteract optical illusion” that would “make the appearance of the temple fit their [the Athenians] mental conception of it”.  That is to say, it would compensate for what the eye sees and the mind’s distortion of it.  An example of this compensation can be found in the corner columns, which, according to Vitruvius, should be thicker “ ‘because they are completely set off against the open air and [without compensatory thickening] appear more slender than they are’”. (Pollitt 75).  The second theory, contrary to the first, proposes that the curvature “was intended to amplify normal optical distortion so that the temple appeared to be more immense that it actually was”.  And still the third conjectures that the deviations serve “the purpose of creating a tension in the mind of the viewer between what he expects to see and what he actually does see…a fascination which makes the structure seem vibrant, alive, and continually interesting”. (Pollitt 76).

b.     The east and west pediments of the Parthenon feature symbolic narratives illustrated by sculpture in the round.

          On the east pediment can be seen the story of the birth of Athena, the patron goddess of Athens and dignitary of this temple.  Athena is shown springing fully-grown and militarily clad from Zeus’ head, dancing a dance of war that distinguishes her as the Athena Promachos, a goddess ready for battle.  (An important aspect to note is the way in which the figures are positioned so as to conform in a seemingly natural way to the slope of the pediment). 

          The west pediment, which would have faced the entrance to the Acropolis, shows the contest for Athens, the battle between Athena and Poseidon for deity-ship of the city and rule over the Athenians.  Poseidon offers the power of the sea while Athena, who ultimately wins the battle, offers the olive tree.  This sculptural narrative provides a good example of the Greeks’ affinity for expressing their history through the idiom of myth.  Athena’s offering symbolizes the importance of the olive tree to Greek culture (for agriculture, export, and affluence) and the accreditation of this wealth to the goddess. 

c.     There are 92 metope reliefs featured in the exterior frieze of the Parthenon (Stokstad 133).  Each metope depicts a legendary battle between two opposing forces that is symbolic, as is the Parthenon in its entirety, of the Greeks’ defeat of Persia and, in such, the triumph of reason over barbarism.  In the metopes on the south side of the Parthenon, the Persians are represented as centaurs, half men and half brutes, while the Greeks are symbolized in the form of mythical Greek Lapiths.  This sculptural interaction is another example of the Greeks’ tendency of historical expression through myth.  It also thoroughly illustrates both their humanizing and generalizing impulses (as well as their demonization of enemies) that are direct correlations of Periclean Athens’ social consciousness.

d.               The second frieze (regrettably unavailable for photograph) is located within the Doric peristyle, along the exterior wall of the cella (Stokstad 133).  On it is an illustration of the festivities of Athens, the Panathenaeaic procession that took place every four years and in which the women and young girls of the city carried a newly-woven dress or peplos to the Acropolis in order to clothe a statue of Athena (not the gold and ivory Athena of Pheidias). (Pollitt 85).  The rhythmic position of the figures in the frieze suggests natural, realistic, and lifelike movement and interaction.  Contrasting colors, as well as a deeper relief at the top of the frieze, made clearer the action that takes place on this particular architectural element (Stokstad 135).

e.               The casts of the original pedimental sculpture shown above are from the east pediment, the best preserved of the two.  The three female figures are “probably Hestia (a sister of Zeus and goddess of the hearth), Dione (one of Zeus’ many consorts), and her daughter, Aphrodite” (Stokstad 132). 

These figures provide an incredible example of the attention given to human likeness that was born out of 5^th Century Athens.  The contours of women’s bodies are “expertly rendered” and create an illusion of real flesh and bone beneath the gracefully and sensually draping folds of fabric (Stokstad 133).  They are extraordinarily full of individual, humanistic life—something that had not been seen in Greek, or any, sculpture before this point.

f.                The statue of Athena located in the interior cella of the Parthenon is not the same warrior Athena that is depicted on the east pediment, but the Athena Parthenos, Virgin and patron goddess of Athens.  The figure, designed by Pheidias in ivory and gold, is outfitted in armor and holds both a shield (bearing an Amazonomachy on its exterior and Gigantomachy on its interior) and a Victory (Stokstad 130). These symbols, along with the reliefs on her sandals representing a Centauromachy make “the goddess who was the embodiment of Athenian intellectual and cultural attainments” a symbol “of the triumph and order and civilization over chaos and barbarism on all levels” (Pollitt 98). She is a cult image, framed by Doric columns and colossal in size to emphasize her importance as the presiding deity of Athens and benefactor of its cultural and civil wealth and prosperity.

Achilles and Ajax

Achilles and Ajax Playing a Game
Exekias, c. 540-530 BCE

In the art of Ancient Greece, painted pots played a predominant role.  While the many variations of ceramic vessels (undecorated) fulfilled everyday household purposes, the same standardized styles of pots (beautifully painted) served much more than their utilitarian roles by showcasing "scenes of human interaction evoking a story", a characteristic tradition of Ancient Greek art in general.  On occasion, the creators of these masterful works would leave their signature, though oftentimes the potter and the painter were not the same.  In the case of Achilles and Ajax Playing a Game, however, the amphora (a large, generally all-purpose storage jar, perhaps used most notably for wine) was signed by Exekias as both potter and painter.  

This particular vessel belongs to the Archaic period and the black-figure tradition.  During this period, Athens became known as the center for the manufacture and trade of pottery in all of Greece, and the Corinthian tradition of painting black figures upon a reddish background (hence the name "black-figure") distinguished itself as the principal style of decoration.  Exekias, perhaps the most famous of Athenian black-figure painters and like many of the artists of this time period, created representations of figures drawn from Greek mythology.  This amphora shows a relaxed Achilles and Ajax, heroes of Homer's Trojan War, playing a game of dice.  On the right-hand side of the composition, Ajax calls out the number three as Achilles, on the left, calls out the number four, signaling his victory in their leisurely game.  This picture of ease between two mighty warriors would have been mournfully ironic to Greek viewers familiar with their story and painful partings, Achilles' death in battle and Ajax's subsequent suicide.  Aside from its symbolic weight, however, the image itself is also compositionally pleasing.  The careful contours of the bodies, emphasized in importance against the red background, and dynamic diagonals display the Greeks' aptitude for creating exceptional artwork even on difficult surfaces (notice the complete gracefulness with which the figures conform to the amphora's swollen shape). Exekias' amphora follows the Greek tradition of idealism in standards of human supremacy and beauty, both in subject matter and design.  The richly textured and majestic heroes of myth in this work are merely one example of the many portrayals of human interaction through these carefully crafted vessels.

The Anachronism

http://prezi.com/0j3risnlgune/the-anachronism/

"Art's Bold New Direction"

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/specialsections/40th-anniversary/Arts-Bold-New-Direction.html

The article I chose for this week offers an insightful look into "Art's Bold New Direction" as given by Richard Koshalek, director of the Smithsonian's Hirshhorn Museum.  In the article, Koshalek enthusiastically embraces an art world which he refers to as "changing at warp speed" and describes the museum's future efforts to promote engagement between art audiences and the ever-evolving methods of creation.  It is obvious, as Koshalek notes, that art has come leaps and bounds in terms of methodology and technology since, say, the days of Fragonard.  Nowadays, we carry artwork around with us all day long on our cellphones, though we rarely pause to recognize that fact.  This connection between art and our everyday lives is something that Koshalek emphasizes as his hope for the future and something that I find interesting and extremely relevant.  As our modern world revolves more and more around technology, it would seem to revolve less and less around the more artistic aspects of life--that is to say, recreational painting, sculpture, and the like.  However, as the article describes, this is not the case.  

Koshalek's two major initiatives for 2012 aim to enrich what he believes is "the primary responsibility of museums...to teach us to live life with greater imagination".  He supports the notion that "in the future, the art world will be even more liberated to make use of all the media around us", that it "will not perceived as something 'exotic' or marginalized--but rather as a normal mode of existence along with other pursuits".  Technology will not minimize art's influence in the world, but serve as an indispensable tool for the creative minds that will shape the society of the future.  The two, art and technology, are thus indefinitely fused into one boundlessly progressive entity that will define the human experience for many years to come.

The Mask of Agamemnon

Mask of Agamemnon
Greece. c. 1600-1550 BCE.

The funerary mask of legendary Homeric king Agamemnon is an interesting and controversial piece.  The mask itself belongs to the ancient civilization of Mycenae, Greece.  Famous for their metalworking, ceramics, and architectural developments, the Mycenaeans gave much more prominence to their funerary structures than other cultures of the time and ultimately created in them the most sophisticated architectural monuments of the Aegean Bronze Age.  However, the earliest tombs, like the one in which this mask was originally found, were vertical pits 20-25 feet deep known as shaft graves.  Uncovered by archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann in November of 1876, the so-named Mask of Agamemnon became the archaeologist's most famous discovery.  He accredited the golden-wrought mask with having belonged to the infamous king and commander of Greek forces in Homer's The Iliad, an epic account of the Trojan War.  This association itself was enough to make both the mask and its discoverer interesting beyond doubt, considering that, in finding such an artifact, Schliemann was in fact proving the Homeric mythological narrative to be true (a huge deal among Greeks, whose fascination with representing their history through myth was considerable).  However, the controversy made its appearance known as well upon further analyzation.  The first important discrediting factor was the fact that the graves which Schliemann unearthed in 1876 were later proven to be 300 years older than he thought, displaying different burial practices than those described by Homer.  The second is the stylistic composition of the mask itself; the facial features are far different than those of the other funerary masks among which it was found.  The beard and handlebar mustache, especially, suggest a suspicious synonymity to contemporary styles and trends.  They even resemble the archaeologist himself.  This fallibility paralleled previous deceits committed by Schliemman with the intent of embellishing his career.  The verdict on the mask's true authenticity is unclear, to be certain, but it introduced a definite and significantly questionable element into the practice of history-writing.

'Feeling' out the Architecture

Downtown Presbyterian Church, Nashville

Upon entering the sanctuary of Downtown Presbyterian Church, my first reaction was one of surprise.  The "Egyptomania" we have discussed in class is certainly evident this Nashville historic architecture.  In terms of the Horowitz reading, there are many important architectural elements used in this structure that contribute to the overall aesthetic and emotional response that one experiences while interacting with it.  Approaching from the outside, the first thing I noticed was obviously the site of the church.  Situated between bustling downtown sidewalks, city streets, and commercial businesses, the church itself, though not strikingly contrasted physically or visually, offers a brief reprieve symbolically from its very urban environment.  (This would undoubtedly have been different at the time it was constructed).  Once inside, this sensation becomes intensified.  You are immediately transported from 5th Avenue to another place entirely, one reminiscent of Ancient Egypt.  

The sanctuary is cavernous.  The vast space dwarfs the viewer in colorful grandeur, emphasizing its sacredness and the single person's relative insignificance in comparison.  The tall sky-painted ceilings, many windows, and monumental columns amplify this effect.  The light streaming through richly-colored stained glass windows, bathes the space in a warm glow.  In combination with the Egyptian-esque landscapes depicted in the windows' glass, this particular lighting creates a kind of other-worldly ambience that would be ideally characteristic of a religious experience.  The variety of colors used in the rest of the room, on the somewhat Corinthian style columns for example, though slightly out of context contemporarily speaking, would have once payed tribute to the god or gods in question.  Not a regular or particular church attender myself, I find this aspect very interesting--the extreme differences in perspective regarding color, embellishment, and such.  The decoration of Downtown Presbyterian is both elaborate and strategic.  The idea is to convey majesty.  The paintings of sky on the ceiling and hypostyle halls on the walls create an illusion of deeper and open space, as if you were in an outdoor temple rather than a church in downtown Nashville.  The rhythm of the columns, both actual and painted, manifest the same strength and permanence as those of Amun's Temple at Karnak.

Each of these elements--site, light, color, decoration, et cetera--plays a unique role, as I have illustrated here, in contributing to the overall atmosphere of an architectural space and the way a person feels encountering it.

"How a little praise in prison can go a long way"

Duet by John Banks
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/aug/24/arts-prison-koestler-awards-praise 

The Koestler Trust is an arts charity that provides opportunities for inmates and detained psychiatric patients in the UK to express themselves creatively.  Arts by Offenders is an exhibition put on by the Trust and includes, this year, entries from 14 Scottish prisons, a children's secure unit, and a mental hospital. The article I chose, "How a little praise in prison can go a long way" was written by former-inmate Erwin James whose positive experience with Koestler's investment in offenders' lives and creative expression changed his entire perspective about his own life and worth to society.  This article is incredibly interesting to me for two reasons.  On the one hand, it takes a conventional perspective of what we, as a culture of primarily Western-influenced art observers, art snobs, if you will, perceive to be real "art" or "artists" and throws it out the window.  On the other hand, however, it is an incredibly intimate illustration of what art in the purest sense can achieve.  These are not pieces commissioned by lofty dignitaries or wealthy patrons for themselves, but precious, personal reflections and journeys made masterpiece in some sort of visual form.  When you think about it, these artists are not actually so different from many whom we today consider masterful ringleaders in their own movements.  (Van Gogh, for example.)  As a representative of the Koestler Trust states in the article, these opportunities of expression can "'give people a sense of value that they might not have had before'".  I personally think this idea, as well as this organization, is awesome and agree with the writer that, obviously, "'a little praise goes a long way'".

The Palette of Narmer

The Palette of Narmer

Hierakonpolis.  Early Dynastic period, c. 2950 BCE.

The Narmer Palette is a fascinating piece.  Although it was, in all technicality, a ground for mixing eye-shadows, this particular palette would have been purely ceremonial, and remains an excellent example of the artistic conventions that began during the Early Dynastic period in Egypt.  In this period,  following the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt, Egyptian kings were depicted as having god-like status.  This is evident in the Narmer Palette in several ways.  Firstly, Narmer, capable ruler of Upper Egypt, is considerably larger than everyone else in the scene.  This, by convention, is a mark of his importance.  There was no Western conception of linear or atmospheric perspective in Ancient Egypt, simply a hieratic scale of persons and figures--the larger they were, the more important and vice versa.  Therefore the ruler is obviously the focus in this scene.  There is also an element of subordination that makes the here-seen merciless leader the emphasis in the composition.  

Another extremely relevant element of the Early Dynastic artistic convention seen here is the way in which the figures are represented.  There is no attempt to recreate these persons in a lifelike or realistic fashion.  Rather, each body is idealistically posed in such a way as to be seen from its most aesthetic angle.  For example, you will notice that Narmer's head is at a full profile while his torso remains facing forward.  You will also notice that the smaller figures, those of lesser social importance or rank, do not adhere to this convention as strongly as their fierce leader.  This is yet another way in which the king is distinguished from his surroundings in this scene; the strong composite pose was reserved for dignitaries.

The symbolic elements presented in the Palette of Narmer, while significant in their own light, cannot fully be disconnected from the formal composition.  Their placement in the image has very much to do with the way in which this scene is interpreted.  This sort of iconography, using meaningful images to tell a story, is consistently used in Ancient Egyptian art.  In this particular image, Narmer is identified first and foremost by inscribed hieroglyphs located at the top of the palette--symbols representing sounds that when said together would sound like "Narmer".  He also wears the traditional kilt and beard of a king, as well as the white crown, signifying his control of Upper Egypt.  Clasped in Narmer's hand and in line of his next blow, is a figure whose size is most closely comparable to the king's.  This figure can thus be interpreted as someone of importance, though obviously not so important as Narmer himself.  On the right hand side of the panel, papyrus reeds, symbolic of Lower Egypt, identify this obvious foe as the ruler of Lower Egypt, here being dominated by the Upper Egyptian king.  The god Horus (depicted as a falcon and in whose temple this palette was found) observes this scene from above, his hook in the nose of the man from whose head sprouts the papyrus.  Clearly, Horus approves.  All of these symbols, taken together, enable viewers to interpret the story being told here--Narmer, ruler of Upper Egypt, is conquering his Lower Egyptian counterpart, thus signifying the very important unification of Upper and Lower Egypt and the beginning of Egypt's growth as a powerful and kingly nation.

My Collage

A Fine Madness by Laura Jenkins

Decisions (and Subject Matter):  Each element that I incorporated into my collage speaks, in some way, about me personally.  There are many stages in and of my life represented on this piece of poster-board.  Most of the photographs of people (all but one, actually) are of my family.  This is because my family is the single most important thing in my life and deserves to be highly recognized in this collaboration of myself.  I also included a lot of images from my hometown as it too has played a large role in the person I turned out to be.  The rest of the pictures, mostly architecture, show some of the greatest art I have encountered first-hand up to this point in my life.  So, by all means, my collage is an extension of me—my values, my tastes, my family, and my favorites.  Even my country and the world that I live in today (there are 8 nations represented here, many more if you include each bear’s nationality) find their way into this historical, artistic expression that is moi.

Color:  The majority of the colors I used in this composition are warm and earthy tones.  I find these colors both familiar and comforting, much like the majority of the elements I incorporated into my collage.

Light:  The placement of images in specific areas has a lot to do with the overall lighting effect in the collage.  In the mid- to lower right corner, for example, the lamps and chandeliers seem to emit a very luminous light, reflecting off of the reds and gold.  The lower left-hand corner, on the other hand, is much darker due to a lack of sufficient “light source”.  The upper right area of the collage is seemingly very naturally lit with much open sky in the background.

Texture:  Obviously this is a very flat, sleek surface.  However, texture and pattern can be found within the composition, especially in the ornate detail of the Baroque and Rococo architecture.

Volume:  The darker images near the bottom of my collage—the looming Czech clock tower, the emboldened text, and the very dimly lit photos of my friends and family—all create a nice weighted base in the composition.  The light, airy images near the top counterbalance that with a refreshing and breathable openness.

Line:  The composition of the collage is arranged around a vertical axis.  From the bottom, viewers are able to follow the arms of the bear representing China upward, through the cavernous hall of paintings and along the distinct line between photographs, continuing all the way to apex of the stained glass window.  The implied lines created by the gazes of the bears on either side of the collage direct the viewer’s eye through the image.  The same is also true of my kitten Stuart’s downward stare.

Space:  To create an illusion of depth in my collage, I included windows and spaces that illustrate linear and atmospheric perspective, overlapping images in specific places to create a foreground and background.  For example, my yellow-clad sister and I almost appear to be inside the elegant hall of the Hermitage.

Scale:  The largest and central image in my collage is the most recent, and my favorite, family photo, taken on Mother’s Day.  As I mentioned before, my family is truly the center of my life and therefore takes precedence in the composition.

Symbolism:

1.     The image of Stonehenge, as it relates to this class, represents the foundations of what we consider today to be art.

2.     The uniquely painted bears, which were part of an art exhibition displayed in Poland at the time, signify the global elements of art that connect and interconnect to create new style and influence, and all the many different peoples that together make up this crazy, wonderful world in which we live.

3.     The photo of the Berlin wall, directly beneath Stonehenge, symbolizes the gravity of certain history and how it has shaped the world today.  It is also now a form of artistic expression in its own way—an expression of how the peoples affected by its presence perceived its significance.

4.     The quote by Rainer Maria Rilke, 18^th-19^th Century Austro-German poet, is my favorite—it is a full representation of the way in which I hope to live my life each day.

"Can Art Be 'Priceless' in Rocky Times?"

http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/23/can-art-be-priceless-in-rocky-times/?ref=design 

The arguments presented in this New York Times blog article discuss the soundness of artwork as a long-term investment.  Although each person featured has a slightly different opinion about the matter, I find that I am able to agree with some aspect of each of their cases.  The first, Professor of Philosophy David Dutton, refers to pieces of artwork such as the (above) Picasso and Giacometti as "utterly irreplaceable record(s) of a historical artistic achievement" which therefore makes them a "solid investment".  I think he is right in this sense--that such works can and will never be degraded in importance--and that, therefore, in the long run, their monetary value will never be diminished.  Although the economy has had a negative effect on the art market as a whole, as editor Kinsella, notes, it also leaves the trade wide open for those who are still able and non-detteredly avid about purchasing artwork.  In my opinion, there will always be people to buy it, no matter what the economic status on the larger scale may be.  As Professor Donald Kuspit theorizes, people who buy art are "buying the brand name" (which would not have been true in most cases when the art itself was being made, however).  As such, I daresay those who have the funds (which those purchasing for the sake of "the brand name" rather than aesthetic or historical value generally do), will continue to do so.  That is to say, those who are largely unaffected by economic trends will not feel the need to cut back on their spending.  Articulated by Professor Kathryn Graddy, "while many people may be in economic distress, the very top echelon of wealthy individuals are doing just fine, and it is this very top fraction of the distribution that drives...the art market".  Though these particular types of artwork discussed may not have always been the primary focus of monetary frivolity, the wealthy upper class of peoples have, throughout history, made their importance known by inventory of possessions--the least necessary to survival being the grandest.  This trend remains true today.  Even if collectors are not buying Picasso's work for its incomparable historic value, they'll still buy it.  Therefore I think it is safe to conclude that art is a very good investment.

Analyzing Fragonard

Fragonard's The Swing

As a formal composition, The Swing by Jean-Honoré Fragonard is centered on a strong diagonal axis.  Viewers are able to follow the implied lines of the painting from the bottom left-hand corner, up the man's outstretched arm, over the delicate slant of the woman's body, and onward along the ropes of the swing.  A more subtle diagonal can even be found going the opposite direction--starting this time with the servant's arms and continuing upward and left through the gently swaying trees and brightly-lit vacant space.  The sort of X formation these lines create places the woman in the swing precisely in the center of the image, emphasizing her importance, though this is certainly not the only means by which she is emphasized.  The subordination of space surrounding the woman makes her stand out further from her surroundings.  Also, while everyone else in the scene is hidden in shadow, the playful maiden is bathed in sunlight.  The color palette of this painting is primarily composed of cool blue-greens, as in the foliage and the men's clothing.  For this reason, the warm pink of the woman's dress once again sets her apart from the rest of her environment.  It is not only Fragonard's use of color and light that draws the viewer's attention to the woman, however.  It is also her placement in the composition, with regards to the placement of the other persons depicted--all are situated below her, gazing up as she carelessly tosses her shoe into the air, as though in admiration.  

All of these formal elements clearly show that the woman in pink is the focus of this image.  It is not simply by product of Fragonard's imagination that this is done, however; it is a direct reflection of the time during which he painted it.  The 18th Century Rococo era is characterized by Louis XIV's movement of the art capital from Rome to Paris.  In this era, we see things taking on a distinctly feminine quality, symmetry is replaced with playfulness and ornate detail, reflecting the tastes and tendencies of those in power.  It is also characterized by the distinct presence of mistresses within the royal circle, and in such, the art commissioned for those royals during this time.  With the benefit of this social historical context, we are able to derive all new meanings from Fragonard's use of formal elements in The Swing.  The couple in the image are clearly man and mistress.  They are depicted as participating in a distinctly frivolous activity that would not have been representative of, say, a queen.  The man's placement below his mistress is not only an emphasis of her importance in the image, now, but is also slightly risqué and suggestive of their relationship.  Even the hushing cherub watching over the scene seems to be disapproving of their behavior.  The setting itself, tucked away in a cozy corner of the trees, suggests a desired privacy for this playful activity.  All of these things make up the cultural and socio-economic influence of the time period during which Fragonard so artfully crafted his painting.  As we can see, the lens of historical context adds much more to a work than the formal elements alone can explain.

A Favorite Painting

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo

My favorite painting, or, at least, one that is dear to my heart, is Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam.  Though it is merely an excerpt of a grand-scale masterpiece, it has held a considerable amount of value in my own life.  In all honesty, this was probably the first painting I ever knew by name and artist, which is no doubt due to the way I was introduced to it.  My oldest sister and I were fifteen years apart and, as I am the baby of the family, she was always my number one role model.  So when she came back from graduate school in England with a gift for me, a t-shirt featuring The Creation of Adam, it obviously became my most prized possession.  Even though it was two sizes too big for me, I wore it day and night.  I was one hundred percent the cool kid with the cool, artsy t-shirt from the cool older sister in elementary school (though there was some controversy amongst my 2nd-grade peers considering the nudity).  Now, as I am older, I appreciate the painting for more than just its sentimental value.  However, as my oldest sister and mentor passed away several years ago, that particular aspect remains the foremost reason for my reverence.  But on to the Horowitz reading....  The color palette of this particular painting is rather subdued.  The soft, calming sort of dull hues create a sense of delicate antiquity that is fitting in regards to the scene depicted.  The least imposing of all the colors used, the blues and grays of the sky and yonder mountain, serve to bring the more vibrant scene of creation forward, emphasizing its importance.  In terms of volume, the solid forms illustrated by Michelangelo in this work are very full and round.  There are no harsh or angular elements in the serenely cherubic exchange.  In the bodies especially, the roundness is created by soft shifts in color, hue, and light value.  The focal point of the image is undoubtedly the almost-touching fingertips of Adam and the Creator.  The compositional lines created by their outstretched arms, as well as its central location, draw the viewer's eye to this most important of symbols.  It is not only the connection between the two symmetrical sections of the painting, but the divine and perpetual connection between man and Christ.  Although I have never seen The Creation of Adam in person, I very much hope to admire it from the floors of the Sistine Chapel in the future--sporting my favorite shirt, of course.