Book Review: From Homer to the Harem

I've gone on a bit about the artists of what has come to known as the Orientalist movement. After picking up a book of the same title and getting a renewed excitement, I was particularly struck by a few of the artists. In particular, Ludwig Deutsch blew my mind--I've only seen a handful of reproductions (alas, no originals yet) but if I could see a broader spectrum of his work he might rank as favorite-ever (a position currently held in my mind by Alma-Tadema). Another artist who really appealed to me in that volume, whom I was previously unfamiliar with, was Jean Lecomte du Nouÿ. Incidentally, as I just checked the link a couple of sentences up, I notice that the two illustrations I tried to sell you with back then were in fact by these very two artists. I am nothing if not consistent.

I've been searching for art books by both, so my better 4/5ths gifted me with From Homer to the Harem, a monograph about Jean Lecomte du Nouÿ. Her penchant for finding me great art books makes her my better by an increasingly large fraction.

Published by the Dahesh Museum, this is the first modern monograph on this fellow. This was the catalog of an exhibition of his work at the Dahesh in 2004, which I didn't know about and couldn't have attended if I did. As with many of the artists of the period, as modern art stole the spotlight, his work fell into obscurity, buried under heaps of modern critics' scorn. While many of his compatriots have been resurrected and are enjoying a renewed appreciation, Lecomte du Nouÿ's work is just being exhumed, and this book is a nice early look at a body of work that will undoubtedly grow and form the basis of a larger book I'll someday have to buy.

Mainly, a lot of the works are still in private collections, many of which have not been tracked down. As well, a surprisingly large number of important works succumbed to fires and to the destruction of World War II, which is my assumption based on the years and locations they were destroyed. In some cases photo reproductions survive, which only make the losses that much more painful. So, compared to some other books, this one is not quite as chock-full of art as one might hope for. But there is still plenty here, and it's fantastic. As word gets out, I imagine collectors will come forward to either have their works photographed, or they'll try to sell them with the renewed interest raising their prices, at which point they'll be documented for auction catalogs and the like.

I didn't realize that he was a favorite student of another hero, Gérôme. It certainly made sense once I learned it, as stylistically they have much in common. While one might normally dismiss a seeming copycat, there are enough fantastic pieces to entice. As well, that was an era when progress was made in small steps, without the urgency of needing to be radically different for its own sake.

The in-depth look at his works in the text is interesting, particularly for those already somewhat familiar with the milieu in which they were created. Of note was a mention of the Prix de Rome, the most coveted award you could get in the western art world for at least a century. Our artist narrowly lost this award, but the story of his seeking it highlights the rigors which one had to face to achieve the heights of fame in that era. Of further interest were exerpts from show reviews written by art critics of the day, who held enormous sway at the time and could sometimes make or break an artist with a few words.

Perhaps most interesting of all, for my purposes, is that the artist was in many respects an illustrator, whose works often re-imagined stories both classical and fairly contemporary to his time, at a time when the word illustrator was unnecessary, and art was simply art. On a personal note, he was widowed twice, went to war, and traveled a lot--soaking in the near east's flavor which he translated into his many Orientalist images.

Unlike my last book review, this one is still in-print. These exhibition catalogs don't stay in print for long, and they are long in the reprinting, so do yourself a favor and grab it today!

Warm Up

Aside from the human figure, the next living thing an artist interested in illustrating fantasy, through the ages, has needed to know well is the horse. As fantasy imagery has always been tied to medieval history, and the horse was the Honda Civic for millenia across many cultures associated with fantasy, it is inevitable that a fantasy artist would have to draw them with regularity....

Except that the advent of games like Magic: the Gathering and World of Warcraft have brought forth a new paradigm, one where the horses get a break from the constant strain of butts on their backs. These modern games have eschewed traditional fantasy mores in many ways, and since they have taken up a good portion of my illustration career thus far (the former more than the latter), it ends up that my horse draftsmanship has gotten a bit rusty.

As I presently have occasion to do some hero-on-horse illustration, it seemed worthwhile to get the lead out (or the ink brush at least) and refresh myself a bit on horses. Here are a few quick sketches of horses found online, done to warm up yesterday.

That poor first horse on this sheet suffers from an extremely long rear leg, apparently

And so, in one fell post, I have supplanted the number of cute cat sketches on this blog with the more noble equine variety.

1001 Paintings

After the phenomenal success of 1001 Places to See Before You Die, it was inevitable that a series of books would be produced along these lines. I had some issues with 1001 places as I flipped through it, but when I saw a recent volume in the series, I sighed. One of the problems with Places was that it was inconsistent--sometimes a single house would make the list, but an entire gorgeous village elsewhere was neglected. Still, the book is fun and a good way to get ideas for things to do on a quick day-trip, or items to add to a vacation itinerary.

1001 Paintings You Must See Before You Die ("Selected and reviewed by leading International Critics" (who probably don't paint)) is about a year-old now, but I hadn't had a peek through it until yesterday. To be honest, I expected it to be much worse. I expected it to point out things like Mona Lisa, the Raft of the Medusa, one of Rembrandt's self-portraits or the Nightwatch (maybe even both!), and then like 20 pages each of Picasso, Van Gogh, Matisse, Rothko, etc.. Now I've had the privilege of seeing the hyperlinked paintings above, and they are all on my list (if I were to make one, though I'd probably swap out Nightwatch for something better by the same artist). But modern art scholarship often takes milennia of art, and then focuses 50% on the last 100 years, and this always bothers me.

So, I was surprised at the variety in the book. The editors did weight more towards some of those I expected them to, but for picking 1001 paintings, they dug up some obscure things I'd never seen or heard of. In paperback, I might even pick this up.

Here's the thing: your average person doesn't see much painting, doesn't go out of his way to do so, isn't much in the mood to brave the lines of famous European museums with 2-weeks or less of vacation time, and isn't likely to spend 2 minutes in front of each of 1001 paintings in his entire life. Sad, but true. That being the case, given that some people enjoy "bucket lists" like these, and sort of make them all they need to know/see, I would suggest that people would get more excited by art if they actually were directed to the BEST of what is to be found. A book like 1001 Paintings should, in theory, have this list. I mean, if you're only going to see 1001 Paintings in your life, I certainly hope they are the best of the best that humankind has produced.

This is where some of the choices puzzled and frustrated me. Now, I spent less time flipping through the book than it's taking me to type this. So let me sum up my issues:

1. Many artists get a single listing: If I am going to direct you to only one painting by an artist, or even 3, those are going to be undisputed masterpieces. That should be obvious, right? Yet, when I looked up Albert Bierstadt, they gave something that I would not rate as top 100, something obscure and not even representative of what he's known for. Likewise for Alma-Tadema: 1 work, a small and not very representative piece. As opposed to one of his masterpieces. I've seen both the one they recommend and the one I'm recommending. See my recommendation.
   
2. Shameful oversights: not a single work by Bouguereau, not a single Waterhouse. Regardless of your tastes in subject-matter, you simply cannot stand before a work by either and doubt that they were 2 of the greatest painters who've ever lived. And there are far more obscure and less talented painters in the book, so it's not a question of erudition on the part of the editors.
3. Illustrators are not painters, apparently: Maxfield Parrish, Norman Rockwell--2 of the finest and most influential painters of the 1900s, and with works readily viewable in public collections, ignored. I suspect this is an academic distinction falsely portraying illustrators who paint as less worthy of recognition.
   

Not a painting, apparently

Technically, I only flipped through this so I can't review it properly. I spent most of my time in the index, as any art-goob would. It's ok, but it leaves me wondering what my own 1001 paintings would look like....

I Haz Cat pt.3

I went sort of crazy last summer and did a number of these little sketches. Here are two more, grouped for similarity:

above and below: lazy

The difference between an old (top) and new (bottom) brush pen is amazing. I always keep such felt pens until they run out of ink, simply because the quality of line can vary so much from crisp when new to soft and fuzzy when well-worn.