Not unlike the story about my favorite Carpaccio painting, it was almost a year ago when he was talking about the exhibition publication of National Gallery of Art's Bellini, Giorgione, Titian, and the Renaissance of Venetian Painting. A huge fan of Renaissance painting, he complained that the authors insisted on seeing sex in many of their scholarly interpretations of Renaissance portraits. For example, discussing the book's take on Titian's Flora, he wrote:
"This question in fact summarizes about 80% of the scholarly writing on Titian’s Flora – and about 50% of all scholarly writing on all Venetian women’s portraits, whether nude or not. The question, in other words, is: did this so-and-so, whoever she was, or did she not, have sex? And — would she have it with me?
Which goes to show you that the art-historian’s mind isn’t very far from the lacrosse players’ locker room. The relevant question is the same: is she easy? Can I have her?
I don’t know, dear friends.
This seems some really, really weird stuff. I mean – is someone – er – frustrated here?
In all the years of looking at these paintings it has never occurred to me to ask whether these women are virtuous or otherwise. (I have always assumed them to be like most women I have known in my life – a little bit of both – virtuous for the most part — and thank heavens for that “most”; what would we do without a little doubt in the more shadowy corners of our lives, ahem). And, in any case, in staring at their beautiful skin, and hair, and into their dreamy eyes it has never occurred to ask myself whether they would sleep with me.
They were paintings; portraits of women dead these 500 years. It seemed – well – just a little irrelevant to ask?"
Irrelevant? Perhaps....
More of note, however, is what I would call the slippery nature of the art historian's occupation. To my mind, more potentially dangerous than their call to interpret, is their will to place value; which, I am afraid, is probably a necessary by-product of what they do. That is to say that through the act of interpreting art, they are affecting the way people understand art and therefore are creating certain values (which over time become institutionalized). Their opinions have been-- and continue to be-- not only influential in the way we see art, but more, are instrumental in what art we see at all (that is, what we even view of as being art).
The entire discussion, in fact, reminded me of the Apollo Belvedere; a statue I would very, very much like to make the long trip to see someday. In Joseph Alsop's unique book, The Rare Art Traditions, Alsop uses the Apollo Belvedere to make the same point: to illustrate the profound way our Western way of looking at art has changed over the past 150 years (in great part-- he explains-- due to the decisions and opinions of art historians and the art market). To make his point, Alsop traces the dramatic rise and fall of the Apollo Belvedere.
It is a fascinating story.
The statue has always been believed to be a Roman-time marble copy of a Greek original bronze made by Alexander the Great's court sculptor Leochares. The Romans of imperial times, had a huge liking for Greek art and there was a thriving industry to make marble copies of the original bronzes to be used as decorations in the villas and gardens of the wealthy. They were used like wallpaper or outdoor decorations, explains Alsop.
Jump ahead a thousand years, and again Italy can be seen turning her lovely head toward the East, as once again the ancient Greeks were held up as the great pinnacle of culture, civilization and art. And as they had in the past, Italians of the Renaissance pined more than anything to own an "ancient souvenir." (For the Han connection see this) Anything at all from classical times was coveted and admired, from ancient books to pieces of classical sculpture. Vasari spoke of the vast collection owned by Lorenzo Ghiberti, who was described as being proud to own a single Greco-Roman bronze leg!
To feed the great hunger of the Italians, Rome was under constant excavation. Although classical pieces were found on almost a weekly basis during the early Renaissance, to uncover an almost completely intact marble-- well, the Apollo Belvedere was destined for high fame! Bought by an art-collecting Pope, the Apollo was practically enshrined in the Vatican's Cortile del Belvedere .
For the next 350 years, the Apollo Belvedere was to remain the "statue of all statues;" and the "most admired sculpture in the world." During Victorian times, it will be remembered, people of means, as part of their overall education, went on tours to visit the great sights of France and Italy. Called "The Grand Tour," these trips abroad were thought to be like the crowning of a fine education; providing real life experience which could not be learned from books (読万巻書,行万里路). The trips were undertaken with the aim of enriching both the mind and the spirit. This was a time when people still believed that a person could cultivate their heart and mind through the aesthetic appreciation of beautiful things, and the Grand Tour was a social practice which grew out of this concept.
Not only was the Apollo Belvedere part of the Tour-- it was the main attraction. Goethe claimed to have been "Swept off his feet" by the sculpture while 18th century archaeologist and classical historian J.J. Winckelman said that the Apollo Belvedere was "the consummation of the best that nature, art, and the human mind can produce." It was indeed the must-see for anyone on a Grand Tour. A description of the wig worn by amateur Cellist Count Mateeuz Wielhorski is described in a book I am reading right now as being "curled a l'Apollo Belvedere." The statue had a profound influence during its day.
What happened? As Alsop says, "Few make the lonely trip out to look at the Apollo Belvedere any longer." And for those that do, what do they see? Are we even capable of really looking at ancient sculpture any more? Are these bronzes and marbles any more accessible to our modern eyes than say a Shang dynasty bronze?
In an age of Asian art and impressionism, JP Getty was stunningly unique in his commitment to classical European art. Well, the museum is unique in 2 ways for which it is most famous: one is the content of its collection but the second is its huge purchasing endowment, which I heard (but have a hard time believing) is equal to the total combined purchasing budget of all the other museums of the world! The Getty has a staggering amount of money to play with and no other museum stands a chance. Because it can literally buy the national treasures of a country right under that country's own nose, the Getty has been involved with many scandals as well.
This brings me to the statue that I cannot get out of my mind. The Getty Bronze. Also, mired in scandal, I think the Getty is still trying to fend off the Italian government over its purchase (almost $4 million to Art Investment fund Artemis). Called "Victorious Youth," it was a classical bronze that the ancient Romans violently pried off its pedestal to drag back to Rome. The ship that carried my beloved boy then sunk in the Adriatic. Scholars think this happened in the first century AD. or BC.
The Getty Bronze is what scholars refer to as a victor's statue celebrating a youth's win in one of the Greek games. Perhaps he was the son of a wealthy family who wanted to celebrate their golden boy's athletic achievements. People may talk about his hair, but I love his arms, especially the one delicately pointing to the winning garland adorning his perfectly shaped head.
Such a beautiful start. But then the Romans literally ripped his feet off trying to drag him back to Rome (maybe for melting down since so little care was taken to pry him off his pedestal?) Then to sink in the cold waters of the Adriatic. Our boy spent lifetimes down at the bottom of the sea until he was finally pulled up by fisherman in 1964, in the waters of the coast of Fano, Italy. First, the fisherman thought it was a dead body in the water, and then all the barnacles and encrustations had to be pried off. The statue then changed hands several times under murky circumstances until the Getty finally got a hold of him (though the Italians are still laying firm claim to the Victorious Youth). The full story from the LA Times can be read here.
The Getty now keeps him at the Malibu villa. I always try to make it a point to visit him as soon as I get to town. The truth is, I often long to see him when too many months have past. I start to miss him. The experts say that originally his eyes were inlaid with bone and his nipples in contrasting copper. The patina left from all his time beneath the sea is exquisite enough, isn't it? I hate to say it, but-- just like those art historians of Renaiisance art that my friend was complaining about-- I do kind of wonder--- about his love life....
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*I am re-reading Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's book, The Art of Seeing. Utilizing his usual socio-science method, he and his team interview a group of curators and educators in the museum world, and then from those interviews, go on to try and pin down (like a frog in biology class) what exactly is the aesthetic experience of the expert?
His conclusion is that the expert response is based on the following 1) Emotional response (which of course differs hugely between people) is the one trait they all unanimously agree, but what was interesting was the variations on stress put on this by historians in different fields of art history (see below).
2) knowledge (the intellectual skills the viewer brings with them that contributes to their experience; this includes an intellectual appreciation of excellence).
3) Perception was the next and 4) this was followed by something they (not Csikszentmihalyi) termed “communication” and “transformation (which is what they described as being a direct communication or connection they felt with the creator of the piece and the piece itself. That is; how the piece of art "spoke" to them).
Of interest here is that when Csikszentmihalyi broke down which characteristics had the greatest value placed on them by field, it turns out that museum professionals in the field of classical art all placed the intellectual aspect on top. I believe this is due to the reason I hinted-- that classical sculpture has become in many ways inaccessible to us and no longer "speaks to us;" Dreyfus would most likely say, that is because we no longer live in the classical understanding of being.... and because of this background knowledge becomes more essential for aesthetic appreciation. Csikszentmihalyi found this to be in direct contrast to the professionals working in modern art who claimed that direct perception and emotion were the most important aspects of their aesthetic experience. There is much food for thought in the book-- also recommended is, The Victorious Youth by Carol Mattusch
**I also like to follow the fate of my boyfriend here and here.

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