Archive for Venetian Red in Rome

Venetian Red in Rome: Carpaccio’s Bequiling Portrait of a Lady

Posted in Fine & Decorative Arts, Liz Hager, Painting with tags , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2010 by Liz Hager

Editor’s Note: During the month of June, Venetian Red posts from Italy, as well as from San Francisco.

By LIZ HAGER

Vittore Carpaccio, Portrait of a Lady, ca. 1510
Oil on canvas,
(Galleria Borghese, Rome)

Vittore Carpaccio’s (1455-1523/6) delightful portrait of a Venetian woman is squeezed into the corner of an upstairs gallery at the Borghese Museum. She hangs on the same wall as Antonello da Messina’s Portrait of a Man and Giovanni Bellini’s Madonna with Child, although not with them, as Borghese curators have sequestered her in a narrow space on the opposite side of the entry door. Despite the separation, it’s a fitting grouping, since the Bellinis (Gentile and Giovanni), as well as Massina, are widely considered to be Carpaccio’s artistic influences.

Antonello da Messina, Portrait of a Man, 1475
Oil on wood, 30 x 24 cm
(Galleria Borghese, Rome)

An early Venetian Renaissance painter of the generation before Titian, Carpaccio specialized in narrative paintings of religious events set into scenes of everyday life in Venice. (Among his best known works are The Legend of St. Ursula and Life of the Virgin cycles.) Largely associated with the merchant classes of the city, Carpaccio never enjoyed aristocratic patronage or a prestigious official position, though he did receive a number of commissions from various scuole in Venice.

One must wonder if it was Carpaccio’s modest position in the Venetian hierarchy or his well-known crisis of confidence (around 1510) in the face of the radical innovations of younger artists Titian and Giorgione that has placed him in the echelon of lesser painters.

Hans Memling, Portrait of a Man with a Coin of the Emperor Nero, 1473
(Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp)

Nevertheless, Carpaccio occupies an vital spot in history of Italian Renaissance art, not just as a chronicler of the city of Venice, but as a faithful reporter on the rising middle class. Long before the time of Guardi and the Canalettis, Carpaccio painted grand spectacles and elaborate ceremonies of the type that would define the golden age of Venice.

Vittore Carpaccio, Two Venetian Ladies, 1505

In his depiction of Venetian life, Carpaccio was fond of recording minute and exotic detail in a realistic style that betrayed the popular influence in Italy at the time of the Netherlandish painters. He brought that same attention to detail to bear in his portraits. As a result, they become intriguing windows into his sitters’ souls and superb records of the life of the middle class through their accoutrements.

Already unusual for her free flowing hair (recall the last time you saw a portrait of a lady from this period with her hair down!), which Carpaccio creates as feathery feminine delicacy, this Lady‘s jaunty cap makes her all the more appealing. Carpaccio demonstrates that a Venetian woman need not be outfitted in the sumptuous costume of the aristocratic class; through the rendering of her marmoreal skin he imbues her with greater exotic allure than any damask dress studded with emeralds and rubies could.

Vittore Carpaccio, Portrait of an Unknown Man With Red Beret, 1490-93

Wider Connections

“Men’s Portraits of the 15th Century”
More Vittore Carpaccio

Venetian Red in Rome: The “Restitution Room”

Posted in Ceramics, Fine & Decorative Arts, Liz Hager, Travel with tags , , , , on June 9, 2010 by Liz Hager

Editor’s Note: During the month of June, Venetian Red posts from Italy, as well as from San Francisco.

By LIZ HAGER

Label in the “Restitution Room” at the Villa Giulia.

At the end of a long hallway in a wing of the Villa Giulia (Museo Nazionale Etrusco), sandwiched in between the Etruscan armament and jewelry displays, is a room brimming with Etruscan-era pieces repatriated from American museums. The large Euphronious’ s Krater from the Met is there, as are dozens of pieces from the Getty and objects from institutions like The Boston Museum of Fine Arts and Princeton University’s Art Museum.

Euphronios’s Krater, Etruscan, 6th century BC
(Museo Nazionale Etrusco, Rome)

Except for the subtle note on the art work labels, there is nothing that advertises this space as a “Restitution Room.”  And yet, it’s pretty obvious that it was planned specifically to send a message (or two). Otherwise, it seems to me, MNE curators would have integrated each piece within its respective type in other sections of the museum.  Suffice it to say, there is no organizing principle that binds these pieces together, save for their shared identity as recovered pieces.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, I visited the “Restitution Room” only  days after a new case had been filed in the Italian courts, this time against antiquities curator J. Michael Padgett of the Princeton University Art Museum. Readers will remember the recent trial in Rome of Getty director Marian True, who was charged with consorting with shady dealers to buy looted antiquities. Though five years old, the case has not yet been resolved. Nevertheless, Ms. True’s career has been completely tanked.


Curator Marian True (©New York Times)

I still can’t decide exactly what Italian officials are trying to convey through the organization of this room.  Is it a manifestation of Italian pride—a symbol that the government has been victorious over powerful American museums? Does it visually signify ultra-diligence on the part of the Italian government in protecting its people’s venerable culture? Or is it simply a well-aimed shot over the bow of the antiquities market, warning all of the folly of trading in illegally procured objects.

Whatever the true message of the “Restitution Room,” it certainly co-opted my thoughts long after I had left the Villa Giulia.

Wider Connections

“Museums into the Fray: The Marian True Trial”
Vernon Silver—The Lost Chalice: The Epic Hunt for a Priceless Masterpiece
Sharon Waxman—Loot: The Battle over the Stolen Treasures of the Ancient World

Venetian Red in Rome: The Jewel in Rome’s Carolingian Crown

Posted in Architecture, Liz Hager, Mosaic with tags , , , , on June 5, 2010 by Liz Hager

Editor’s Note: During the month of June, Venetian Red posts from Italy, as well as from San Francisco.

By LIZ HAGER

Apse Mosaics, Santa Prassede, Rome. The iconographic program consists of themes associated with the Apocalypse.

A stone’s throw from the madding crowds at Santa Maria Maggiore lies Santa Prassede, nearly empty the other afternoon when I visited.  Santa Prassede has all the attributes of its larger cousin but in a more intimate setting, which fosters a truly contemplative experience. (No tour groups here!)

Early 20th century terrazo floor (detail), Santa Prassede.

Santa Prassede occupies an important position in the pantheon of early Christian churches.  Santa Praxedes (Prassede) and Prudentiana were the daughters of Roman senator Prudens (first century AD), who was immortalized in a brief passage in Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy.  Santa Prassede, like the earliest Christian churches, especially those on the Esquiline hill, was built on top of Roman imperial structures and, as a consequence, follows the Roman basilica plan (apse, nave and aisles).

The alleged pillar on which Christ was flogged before his crucifixion.

Though previous churches occupied the space, the structure in its current form was inaugurated by Pope Hadrian I in around 780, but it was really  Pope Paschal (817-824), who created the true glory of Santa Prassede.  At the forefront of the Carolingian Renaissance, during his reign, Paschal undertook two ambitious programs—the first, building new churches; the second to recover martyr bones from the the catacombs and distribute them throughout churches in Rome.

15th century tomb marker, floor of Santa Prassede

The mosaics date from Paschal’s time. The apse mosaics are a stunning example of the no-holds-barred Carolingian program—in this case, Christ flanked by Saints Peter and Paul who present Prassede and Pudenziana to God. Below them, is the band of lambs with the central haloed lamb as the symbol of Christ’s resurrection. For the care with which the sheeps’ fur and heads are depicted, I find this the sweetest of all the Carolingian elements.  Along the outer registers are numerous scenes, depicting others being welcomed into Heaven by saints.

The grand program is magnificent, but it is the tiny chapel of St. Zeno inside the church that qualifies Santa Prassede as a true jewel in my book. This is the only chapel in Rome entirely lined with mosaics and it was without a doubt the unexpected highlight of a day filled with wonderful art viewing. As the lights came on (as in all Rome’s churches you must feed the light meter), the sparkle of encrusted tesserae of turquoise and gold in this tiny space took my breath away.

If you are a fan of the mosaic art as I am, Santa Prassede is not to be missed under any circumstances.

Mosaic bust of Christ and four saints, Chapel of St. Zeno, Santa Prassede.

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