Vermeer in Rome

Girl in a red hat, Johannes Vermeer, 1665-67, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

It’s officially exhibit season in Rome! Are you as excited as I am? Yesterday I wrote about the fabulous Italy as seen from the world exhibit at the Ara Pacis, but today even more thrilling things are in store! But first, a disclaimer:

As I've mentioned more than once on this blog, a little trick curators here in Rome often indulge in is the creative naming of their exhibits. They come up with fabulous names, but they are often misleading, dropping in big names like Caravaggio and Botticelli to sell more tickets. I don't mean to disappoint you, dear bloglings, but this is one of those exhibits.

Now, let me start off by saying, the exhibit is indeed excellent. The Scuderie knows how to put on a show. Just don't get your hopes up that you are about to fulfill your lifelong dream of seeing dozens of Vermeer masterworks in one go.

However, this should not reflect poorly on the exhibit’s organizers (just on the ones who chose the name). Vermeer paintings are frustratingly difficult to scrape together, and even harder to move from place to place. Only 34 paintings can absolutely be attributed to him and of these, only 26, conserved in 15 different collections, can be moved. Not a single one belongs to an Italian collection. In fact, this is only the fifth exhibit in a century, and the first in Italy, to reunite more than four of Vermeer’s masterpieces.

All things considered, 8 works is quite impressive, although I would have chosen a more honest name for the exhibit, such as A handful of paintings by Vermeer and about 50 others by his contemporaries which you might not be that interested in seeing. Hm, that’s a little long. How about Vermeer, de Hooch, Metsu and the Golden Century of Dutch Art. Perfect.

Lute Player, Johannes Vermeer,1662/3, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

This is probably my favorite work in the exhibit. While at first glance, it appears to be a girl playing a lute, she is actually tuning it. Her left hand on a tuning peg, her right plucking a string, her ear lowered over the instrument and her gaze unfocused as she concentrates on her task. An exquisite moment captured brilliantly.

Young woman seated at a virginal, Johannes Vermeer, 1670-72, private collection

As I have never had any shame in admitting, I know next to nothing about any work of art not painted by an Italian. But next to nothing is not nothing, and I am a quick learner, so I was a happy coincidence when I bumped into* one of the world’s leading experts on Vermeer, Arthur K. Wheelock, curator of Northern Baroque Paintings at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. He illuminated me on some of the finer points of Vermeer's genius and career. What luck! These kind of serendipitous meetings always seem to happen whenever I go to an exhibit! And a good thing too, because otherwise I’d have to do my own research, and you know what a bother that can be!

*he was giving an interview and I was listening in

Young woman standing at a virginal, Johannes Vermeer, 1670-73, National Gallery, London

But seriously.



Vermeer's innate ability to capture the elegance and richness of everyday moments is what he is most remembered for. A glimpse into the quotidian life of the artist, his home, his family his friends, ordinary people in ordinary situations. For me art, as with opera, is more meaningful when I can relate to it. The Triumphal March of Aida is mesmerizing and overwhelming, but the four artist friends trying to get out of paying their rent, or the young couple trying to decide whether to break up or stay together (Bohème, of course) is so much truer and more beautiful to me, because I can relate to it. And so with Vermeer.

Those simple yet profound moments, pockets of time that can go unnoticed if you're not paying attention: those are the moments where the real beauty and eloquence can be found. Like when you are fastening a necklace as you look out the window, distracted, bemused, and suddenly you realize that in that one moment at least, life is perfect and beautiful. Vermeer found art in the everyday, the bourgeois, the unremarkable, and that is why his work is so universally loved.

Saint Praxedes, Johannes Vermeer (disputed), 1655, The Barbara Piasecka Johnson Collection Foundation

This is one of Vermeer's earliest masterpieces. So different from the scenes he created during the height of his career, I doubt I would have recognized it as such. It was displayed alongside an almost identical work of the same subject by Felice Ficherelli (also called Il Riposo).

Woman reading a letter, Gabriel Metsu, 1664-66, National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin

This was one of my favorite non-Vermeer works in the exhibit. The women have the same simple elegance and easy grace of Vermeer's subjects, but the work lacks the brilliant use of diffused light and richness of color that set Vermeer above his contemporaries.

Young woman with a glass of wine, Johannes Vermeer, 1659-60, Herzog Anton Ulrich-Museu, Braunschweig

I imagine you are positively itching to get to this exhibit. Try to wait at least one more week, as the above painting has not yet arrived. It should be on display by 4 October. For practical info on visiting, check out my exhibits calendar.

All images provided courtesy of Azienda Speciale Palaexpo and MondoMostre.

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The fable of Cupid and Psyche at Castel Sant'Angelo

The fable of Cupid and Psyche is the subject of a new exhibit at the Castel Sant'Angelo that opened this past Friday. I was particularly looking forward to this exhibit because I love anything that has a theme. Don't get me wrong, retrospective exhibitions on some of the world's greatest artists, like Tintoretto, Guercino and Dalì are enthralling, but it's nice to change things up and see a show like this that illustrates a story through works of art that span the centuries.

Cupid and Psyche kiss, 2nd half of 2nd century AD, Capitoline Museums, Rome

The fable of Cupid and Psyche (Amore e Psiche in Italian) first appears in L'asino d'oro (The Golden Ass) written by Lucius Apuleius in the 2nd century AD, although the tale existed in oral tradition much earlier, as some of the works in this exhibit prove.

Psyche discovers Cupid, Jacopo Zucchi, Galleria Borghese, Rome

The story begins as an old woman recounts the tale of Cupid and Psyche to a young woman. This introductory scene is depicted in the tapestry below.

An old woman narrates the tale of Cupid and Psyche, French school, 1750 ca, Palazzo del Quirinale, Roma

 Psyche (whose name means either 'soul' or 'butterfly') is the youngest of three daughters of a king. (Although Psyche is sometimes depicted with butterfly wings, she is a mortal.) Although all three sisters are lovely, Psyche is the most beautiful by far, and people come from distant lands just for the pleasure of admiring her beauty. As you can imagine, this causes Venus, the goddess of beauty, to become enraged with jealousy.

Porcelain jasper medal depicting Psyche, Josiah Wedgwood, late 18th century. Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge

Venus cannot bear the thought that a mere mortal should be more admired than her, so she convinces her son Cupid to visit the girl while she is sleeping and pierce her with his arrow, planning to arrange for a hideous monster to be the first thing Psyche sees (and therefore falls in love with) upon awakening.

Cupid and Psyche, Limoges, mid-16th century, National Renaissance Museum, Ecouen

Cupid makes himself invisible as he sets about his task, but just as he is about to pierce Psyche with his arrow, she wakes up and even though he is invisible, she looks straight into his eyes. Distracted by her beauty, he accidentally pierces himself instead and falls deeply in love with her. Unable to complete his mission, he returns to Venus and tells her what happened. Venus is furious and curses Psyche so that no man will ever propose to her.

Cupid is so distraught that he neglects his duty of causing mortals to fall in love. No one is marrying or mating, not even the animals! In order to get the world back to rights again, Venus gives in and allows Cupid to marry Psyche.

Meanwhile, because of Venus' curse, poor beautiful Psyche has had no offers of marriage, and after consulting an oracle, her father the king reluctantly abandons her on a mountaintop where is to be married to a mysterious being. Once there, the Zephyrs, spirits of the west wind, carry her off to a sumptuous palace in a paradise-like setting.

Psyche transported by Zephyrs, John Gibson, mid-19th century, Palazzo Corsini, Roma

After being waited on by invisible servants, Psyche retires for the night. Cupid at last arrives, but he does not want Psyche to know who he is, not yet, so he only visits her at night, under the cover of darkness. As the weeks pass, Psyche longs to know what her husband looks like, but Cupid forbids it. Despite her luxurious surroundings, Psyche soon becomes lonely and Cupid allows her sisters to come visit her. Envious of her magnificent palace, they try to convince her that her husband is a vicious snake who will devour her before long. Overcome by curiosity and dread, one night she brings a lamp (and a knife, just in case) into their bedroom while her mysterious husband sleeps.

Psyche discovers Cupid, Simon Vouet, Musée des Beaux Arts, Lyon

Just as she sees him for the first time, she just happens to scratch herself on one of his arrows and is overcome with desire for him. As she covers him with kisses, a bit of oil from her lamp falls on him and awakens him (as if all the kisses wouldn't have). Furious at her for disobeying him, he flees into the night.

Cupid abandons Psyche, Joseph Heinz, National German Museum, Nuremberg

Psyche is now left alone and very much in love. She decides to go in search of her husband, visiting the temples of both Ceres and Juno. Both tell her there is only one goddess who can help her: Venus. The naive girl takes their advice and begs Venus to tell her where she can find Cupid. Venus has still not gotten over her jealousy of Psyche, so she gives her a series of impossible (and dangerous) tasks.

Psyche abandoned, Giovanni Cappelli, Galleria Museo e Medagliere Estens, Modena

After Psyche has successfully (and safely) completed all three tasks, aided every time by helpful animals and gods along the way, the furious Venus sets her on a quest that she could not possibly complete. She sends her to the Underworld to bring back a portion of Proserpina's beauty (apparently Venus had lost some of her own by stressing over the lovelorn Cupid).

Psyche alata, 2nd century AD, Capitoline Museums, Rome

Just as Psyche is about to commit suicide (the only way she can think of to reach the Underworld), the very tower she is about to throw herself off of speaks to her, telling her not only the route to reach the Underworld alive and how to get back, but also how to get past the three-headed dog, Cerberus (not to be confused with Fluffy: he likes music; Cerberus is appeased with a piece of cake) as well as other tricks of surviving the fire swamp, I mean, the Underworld (oops, wrong fairy tale).

Psyche tormented in the Underworld, 300 AD, National Archeological Museum, Napoli

Psyche has a hard time in the Underworld, as the reliefs on this ancient sarcophagus show, but she eventually survives, with a bottle full of beauty to show for her efforts. On her way to bring her trophy to Venus, she figures it can't hurt to pilfer a little beauty for herself, but when she opens it up, she finds that the bottle actually contains overpowering slumber. She collapses.

Cupid revives the fainted Psyche, Bertel Thorvaldsen, Thorvaldsen Museum, Copenhagan

Cupid, who in the mean time has forgiven her and realized he cannot live without her, rushes to her side to revive her, but quickly flies off again before she sees him. He hurries to Mount Olympus where he entreats Jupiter to allow thme to be together eternally. Jupiter agrees to Cupid's plea and Psyche is brought to Mount Olympus where the two lovers' wedding is celebrated with a banquet, and the bride is granted immortality.

Cupid and Psyche embrace, beginning of 1st century BC, Archeological Museum, Pella

So like all good fairy tales, it ends happily, except for one thing: how would you like to have Venus as a mother-in-law?

All of these gorgeous works, spanning 21 centuries and in such varied mediums as marble, terracotta, ceramic, tapestry, jewelry and oil, are all on display (along with numerous others) at this marvelous new exhibit. For practical information about the exhibit, check out my Exhibits on Now page.

While this exhibit may be temporary, you can see glorious works of art depicting these two young lovers at Villa Farnesina any time! 

All images are provided courtesy of Studio Begnini Press Office and may not be reproduced.

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Caravaggio, you devil!

If Rome can't get enough of Caravaggio, you certainly can't expect me to. In fact, there's a disgraceful lack of Caravaggio in the contents of this blog. I'm going to start remedying that right now.

Love victorious, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

The Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit was set to end last weekend, but as I happily announced last week, it has been extended through mid-March! If you want to go to a Caravaggio exhibit, let me warn you right now, it isn't one! But it's still full of wonderful works of art, and beautifully curated, so I recommend it nonetheless. 

One of my favorite aspects of this exhibit was that most of the works, instead of simply hanging on the wall at eye level, have been inserted into replica altars, with faux marble and porphyry, because almost all of them are part of altarpieces. There has been some criticism that the works are displayed too high off the ground, but they were meant to be seen this way in the churches they were painted for, so in my opinion it works.

One of over 100 paintings on display is Giovanni Baglione's Sacred love conquering profane love. Actually, it's not this one below. This is his first version of the same subject. Baglione was one of the most enthusiastic followers of Caravaggio's innovative new style of naturalism plus chiaroscuro, a style that was bursting onto the Roman scene in the first years of the 1600s. Problem was, Caravaggio didn't like people copying his style. Apparently he didn't agree with the adage that the greatest form of admiration is imitation.

According to Peter Robb (whose book M: The man who became Caravaggio I am currently absorbed in), this painting was greatly inspired by, even a challenge to, Caravaggio's most celebrated and notorious work of the moment, Love victorious (pictured above), albeit a completely different take on the subject of love. In fact, Baglione's divine love was seen as a kind of antithesis to Caravaggio's shocking earthly love.

Here you see sacred love in full armour, breaking up what appears to be a tryst between profane love and the devil himself. Robb describes it as "a sanctimonious courtier's appeal to the counter reformation properties," adding that "on this level at least, it worked brilliantly." When the work was enthusiastically received by the cardinal who had commissioned it --and Baglione generously rewarded for his work-- Caravaggio was understandably miffed. According to Robb, Caravaggio considered Baglione's painting "at once cheaply derivative and smugly critical of his own most daring work." The fact that Caravaggio was having his paintings rejected right and left because he refused to censor his own art to pander to the church couldn't have helped matters.

Sacred love conquers profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

But as frustrated as Caravaggio must have been, Baglione's next painting was even more insulting. Baglione had been criticized for depicting sacred love in full armour, so he reworked the painting with two major differences: he changed the angel's outfit to what Robb describes as "a hideously fancy and fussy girdle" but more provocatively, the devil is no longer turning his head in defeat, but looking straight out at the viewer with the unmistakable features of Caravaggio himself. (The second version is the one that appears in this exhibit.)

Considering the conspicuous position of these two would-be lovers, and the fact that Caravaggio's recent Love victorious had been modelled by his well-known boy-toy Cecco Boneri, with this work Baglione was attempting to smear Caravaggio's already fragile reputation with the stain of sodomy.

Sacred love conquering profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602-3, Palazzo Barberini, Rome

Below you can see the clear resemblance of Caravaggio's most famous self-portrait, painted ten years prior, with Baglione's devil version of Caravaggioabove.

Detail from Sick Bacchus (self-portrait), Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593, Galleria Borghese, Rome

If you think Caravaggio took this insult lying down, you don't know art history's favorite bad boy very well. Caravaggio and a couple of his friends retaliated by writing a couple of virulent and vulgar poems that offended Giovanni Baglione so gravely that he took them all to court for slander. Caravaggio ended up serving a few weeks in the Tor di Nona prison followed by a lengthy house arrest. Only his high connections saved him from being sent to the galleys.

Peter Robb recounts this and many more of Caravaggio's exploits in his engrossing book (along with vivid descriptions of all his works) so I highly recommend you pick it up. (It has recently be rereleased with the new title M: The Caravaggio enigma.) You will also find both of the comic and insulting poems, which I would love to post here, but I'm waiting until I can find the original Italian versions. Let me just say that the first one is called Gian Coglione.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

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The Madonna of Loreto: Caravaggio vs Carracci

One of the reasons to visit the Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit is the opportunity to study side by side two paintings of the same subject painted in the same city in the same year by two very different artists.

The subject is the Madonna of Loreto. According to legend, the Holy House, where the holy family lived and Christ spent his childhood, was miraculously transported from Nazareth to Loreto, Italy (with a brief stop over in Croatia) in the 13th century. A massive basilica was later built around the holy house, which is now the site of an important Christian shrine, a much visited pilgrimage site, particularly in the 16th and 17th centuries.

Self-Portrait, Annibale Carracci

Around 1605, both Caravaggio and Annibale Carracci (arguably the two most popular painters of the moment) were commissioned to paint Our Lady of Loreto. I can't imagine two more drastically different interpretations. Yet the truly interesting thing is just how much those two artists have in common, at least on paper.

Portrait of Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Ottavio Leoni

They were born just over a decade apart. Both were born and first studied art in the north of Italy.  Both were inspired by the great Venetian masters, particularly Titian. Both arrived in the Rome in the 1590s, at the height of the Counter Reformation. Both artists rejected mannerism as artificial and opted instead to paint from life, recreating what they saw in nature, and both had a talent for the play of light and shadow called chiaroscuro.

Although to our eyes Caravaggio is clearly the more daring and innovative artist, Carracci was considered one of the most radical artists of his time, particularly in his early career. But with the strict regulations on artists in Rome under prudish Pope Clement VIII, Carracci became an expert at toeing the line. While Caravaggio was becoming more and more daring in his work (and having several paintings rejected by patrons in the process), Carracci was becoming the darling of the art world. Caravaggio famously painted life exactly as he saw it, whereas Carracci chose to capture the ideal world as naturally as possible. Two different approaches to naturalism.

Translation of the Holy House, Annibale Carracci, Sant'Onofrio Church, Rome

Annibale's Madonna of Loreto, more commonly called the Translation of the Holy House, is a classical, idealized interpretation of the miracle. You would have a hard time imagining the pope and his cronies being offended by this, and it certainly didn't go against any of the stringent rules in Cardinal Paleotti's On sacred and profane images, (the mandatory handbook for artists during the Counter Reformation). The glowing Madonna in blue is perched atop the flying house being crowned by angels as Baby Jesus pours water to relieve the souls in purgatory. Nothing could be more acceptable, graceful or pleasing to the eye.

But Caravaggio's Madonna di Loreto (also known as the Madonna of the Pilgrims), painted the exact same year, is something else entirely. As Peter Robb puts it in his engrossing M, the man who became Caravaggio, "a flying house with clouds, sunlight and angels around it and the Madonna on board--no way [Caravaggio] was doing that." Instead he chose to depict a young, beautiful Madonna holding an overly-large Christ on the doorstep of an ordinary house. Before them, two ragged pilgrims kneel in adoration. 

Madonna of Loreto, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Sant'Agostino Church, Rome

It caused an uproar right from the start, and it wasn't just the pilgrim's filthy feet in the viewer's face that people were talking about. One of Paleotti's rules was against depicting saints doing ordinary every day activities, as if that cheapened their holiness, so the Virgin as a housewife hanging out on her front porch was not OK. Even the pilgrims themselves were offensive, an all-too present reminder of their unpleasant existence en mass in an already crowded city. 

But much worse than that, the Madonna had been modelled by Lena Antognetti, a well-known courtesan frequented by many a cardinal. By using her, Caravaggio was blatantly disregarding the Council of Trent's ban on representing saints as recognizable living people, not to mention sexually attractive ones. But somehow, Caravaggio got away with it, which definitely didn't always happen. And the result? People the world over visit Sant'Agostino to see Caravaggio's version of the Madonna di Loreto; how many do the same for Carracci's at Sant'Onofrio? Caravaggio's courage to paint what he truly saw has made him one of the world's favorite artists.

Interestingly enough, while Caravaggio is by far the more popular artist today (with an average of four exhibits a year in any given city), it is Carracci who for hundreds of years after his death was considered the great Italian painter at the turn of the 17th century. Whereas Caravaggio was all but forgotten a mere 20 years after his death.  His popularity would not begin to rise again until well into the 20th century.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3; 4: courtesy of Civita Press Office

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