A taste of home: The Guggenheim comes to Rome

Grrrrrrrrrrr!! Roy Lichtenstein, 1965. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

If you're getting a bit ODed on Italian art, if Caravaggio, Tintoretto, Guercino and all the Renaissance masters are getting you down, if you're an American, like me, living in Rome and trying to make sense of this crazy country, and just need a little bit of home so that things will make sense again, then have I got an exhibit for you! (There's always something on in Rome to solve any problem!)

Untitled (Green Silver), Jackson Pollock, 1949. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

60 works from the Solomon R Guggenheim Museum in New York and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice are on display at the Palazzo delle Esposizioni. And even though Italian art could never, ever get me down, and even though Abstract Expressionism will never make things make sense to me, I enjoyed the exhibit nonetheless.

Untitled, Mark Rothko, 1947. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

As post-war American art is really not my forte, I will not pretend to wax philosophical about it, but I will offer a couple of words about the exhibit. It covers 5 major genres of 20th century art: Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art, Minimalism, Post-Minimalism/Conceptual Art and Photorealism. The first three exhibition rooms are dedicated to Abstract Expressionism, and thereafter there is one room dedicated to each genre.

Untitled, Mark Rothko, 1942. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

The works on display date from 1945 to 1980 and the exhibit seeks to fully explore the artistic movements of the American Avant-guard during a time in which the United States became one of the most important centers for the creation and promotion of new art.

Orange Disaster no. 5, Andy Warhol, 1963. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

I must admit I liked the Pop Art and the Photorealism works well and above the rest. That probably says something about my lack of imagination or education, or both I expect! This gumball one fascinates me. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I had a gumball machine (a real one that you had to put pennies in) when I was a little girl, and it must take me back. I just want to dive right in to all its colorful, sugary goodness. I was fascinated by how realistic these paintings are, how much some of them look like photographs. Not this one nearly as much as some of the others.

Gum Ball no. 10: "Sugar Daddy", Charles Bell, 1975. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

If you're American and a bit starved for some home-cooked art, or if like me American Avant-guard art is anything but familiar, either way, you'll enjoy this visually stunning and thought provoking exhibit. See my Exhibits on Now page for the whens and wheres.

All images provided courtesy of Azienda Speciale Palaexpo

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Photographs by Andrea Pacanowski: you won't believe your eyes

Hello my sweet bloglings, have I got a treat for you today! A brand new exhibit opened this past Friday at the Museum of Rome in Trastevere. On display are 40 works by Roman contemporary photographer Andrea Pacanowski. One look at these images will send your mind swirling in a kaleidoscope of colors, but there's something else, something you won't believe.

The title of the exhibit is: Before me: the crowd and the religious experience. I agree with you, that doesn't translate very well. All'infuori di me (meaning literally 'besides me' or 'except for me') is a quote from the first commandment: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me". Folla does mean crowd, but it is a strong word, could even be translated as mob in certain cases.

The photos were captured the holiest cities of the world's major monotheistic religions, mostly Jerusalem, Fez and Rome. The subject of every work is a religious mass, a large group of people coming together for prayer, worship or ritual. But what sets Pacanowski's photos apart is not their subject matter or their composition, or the glorious colors he captures. It is the almost unbelievable fact that he uses no post-production techniques of any kind. Let me say that again:

He uses no post-production techniques of any kind. Not only that, each of the images is captured with old fashioned film. Absolutely nothing digital about these photographs.

I'm guessing your reaction is like mine when I saw these photos for the first time: disbelief. But it's true. Then how? How did he do it? Well I was tempted to ask him just that when I saw him at the inauguration, but I was overcome by a rare bout of shyness, and a worry that I hadn't read the press release thoroughly, so not wanting to embarrass myself, I kept my mouth shut.

After a bit of post-exhibit studying, I found out his secret. (Spoiler alert, if you'd prefer to visit the exhibit without knowing, stop reading now!)

Each photograph is merely a reflection of an image. None of the subjects were shot directly. Some kind surface, such as canvas, wood or glass, was applied with either chalk, paint, silicone or some other substance, and then scratched or in other ways manipulated. Then the prepared surface was set up in such a way that it caught the reflection of the subject and voilà.

These mesmerizing photos look at once like watercolors, complete abstract art and impressionist paintings. Like impressionist art, many of them have to be looked at from several steps back to be able to recognize the subject. But by studying them close up, you are able to guess at some of the particulars of the preparatory technique, which is every bit as fascinating.

A tiny computer screen will never do justice to these amazing photos, so do yourself a favor and go see this astounding exhibit in person. See my Exhibits on Now page for visiting information.

I will leave you with the capolavoro of the exhibition. At first you may simply see a Catholic procession and nothing else. But look a little closer, or, on second thought, look a little further away. Once you see it you won't be able to imagine how you missed it before.

All images copyright Andrea Pacanowski and provided courtesy of Zètema Press Office.

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Antique Italian Maps at the Vittoriano

Le speranze del Bepi pel prossimo cinquantenario, Anonymous, L'Asino. 1911

I warn you now, dearest bloglings, the Pines of Rome is going to get a bit exhibit-heavy in the next few days. There are just so many amazing mostre on right now! One in particular, free of charge and hosted at the Complesso del Vittoriano, took me three weeks to see because of two weekend snowstorms in Rome that saw nearly every site in the city closed all weekend.

Italian Panorama, Anonymous, 1861

I finally had a chance to visit this small but lovely exhibit weekend before last, Antica Cartografia d'Italia. Beautiful detailed maps dating from the 1500s onward are on display, making for a lovely and enjoyable pre-lunch outing. In addition to maps, illustrated cover pages of antique atlases are also on display.

Sexta Europae Tabula, Silvano Bernardo, 1511

This exhibit was a real treat for me due to my life-long love of maps. I inherited this passion from my father, and I can spend hours pouring over them. My favorite are city maps, especially when they allow me to study how that particular city has changed and expanded over time, as well as how they have stayed the same. Alas, very few city maps are to be seen at this exhibit, but the region and country maps are nevertheless absorbing.

Italian Unity, Map of Italy, Pinot and Segaire. ca 1861

By far the most amusing and enlightening maps on view at this exhibit are the comical ones, most of which depict Europe during World War I, although some date back to the late 1800s. We've all seen and laughed over the clever and often spot-on images like the ones below by Yanko Tsvetkov that depict Europe or the world according to specific groups or nationalities.

Europe according to Italians, by Yanko Tsvetkov

Europe according to Americans, by Yanko Tsvetkov

Europe according to the Vatican, by Yanko Tsvetkov

But who knew this type of satirical map dated back at least 150 years? The main difference is that the old Italian ones are even more astute and more artistically rendered. (Please forgive the quality of the next four photos, I took them myself.)

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark! Johnson, Riddle and Co. 1914

The map above depicts Europe at the onset of World War One with the various countries depicted in canine form while Russia literally steam-rolls in. Germany and Austria are tethered together as Britain releases his mighty fleet of ships. Spain is still bullfighting and Italy is a pistol-weilding carabiniere.

Europe in 1914, B. Crité, 1914.

The map above is dominated by the Tsar of Russia. I love that nothing is going on in Finland except a few bears prowling around, while Sweden and Norway look on calmly and the Austro-Hungarian Empire is already a graveyard (literally).

Kill that Eagle, Anonymous, European Revue, 1914

Kill that Eagle shows a female but nevertheless fierce France attempting to pierce the German eagle, with Britain rolling up his sleeves to join the fight. Austria, depicted as a clown, is torn between Germany and Yugoslavia and looks in terror as the Russia literally bears down upon him. Spain and Scandinavia are nothing but idle spectators while Italy appears to be either singing or reciting poetry. Typical.

John Bull and his friends, Fred W. Rose, 1900

In the map above dated 1900, Russia is a menacing octopus strangling Poland and Siberia with tentacles reaching from Finland to China. France, Spain and Ireland are depicted as women while the rest of Europe, a choatic mess, are weapon bearing military leaders. The cleverest detail is the red Salwar pants that illustrate Turkey, who is literally leaning on Greece.

But this one below is by far my favorite. It sums up perfectly the Unification of Italy with triumphant Giuseppe Garibaldi ousting Pope Pius IX (Sardinia) and his Papal Tiara (Corsica).

Italy, Harvey Williams, 1869

This exhibit ends 4 March, so don't tarry! Find practical information at my Exhibits on now page.

Photo sources: 5, 6, 7 by Yanko Tsvetkov
8, 9, 10, 11 by author
All other images provided courtesy of Comunicare Organizzando press office.

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Tintoretto arrives in Rome

I'll never forget the first time I saw a Tintoretto painting. I was in Venice for Carnival with an old friend nearly ten years ago, and we decided to visit the Scuola Grande di San Rocco. I was blown away by the immense output of this prolific painter. His works seemed to cover every wall and ceiling in each one of the countless rooms. The drama, the color, the detail; it was dazzling. Now, I have to admit, all those years ago I was not the formidable Italian art expert I am today (I would put a winky face here to insure that my written sarcasm was recognized as such, but I cannot abide emoticons in anything but text messages, and not much there, so I'll just have to hope my facetiousness came across nonetheless).

Susanna and the elders, Tintoretto, ca 1555. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Embarrassing as it is to admit, at that time I had only ever heard of the Scuola Grande di San Rocco because of Woody Allen. In one of the lesser acclaimed (but perhaps my personal favorite) of his films, Everyone says I love you (1996), Allen travels to Venice where he tries to impress a beautiful art historian (Julia Roberts) by showing off how well he knows her favorite painter, Tintoretto. In reality he just rattles off some lines he has memorized from an art book. I know that must sound like a pretty lame plot (it's just a sub-plot, I assure you) but it was executed with such classic Allen style that it makes me laugh just thinking about it. The scene in question takes place at, you guessed it, the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, and as a life-long Woody Allen fan, I made sure to visit. Little did I know how right Julia Roberts('s character) was about Tintoretto...

Self portrait as a young man, Tintoretto, 1548. Victoria and Albert Museum, London

The newest exhibit in Rome, opening tomorrow at the Scuderie del Quirinale, is also the first major monographic exhibition of the works of Tintoretto in Italy. Like Guercino, Tintoretto was also nicknamed for a peculiarity: his father was a dyer, or tintore, hence Jacopo Robusti (or Comin, as his true last name has recently been discovered to have been) became known as the "little dyer". Not unlike Michelangelo, who claimed to have drunk in his talent for cutting stone with his wet nurse's milk (she had come from a long line of stone masons), perhaps Tintoretto's brilliant use of color was born of his learning the art of dyeing at his father's knee. In fact, when Tintoretto was only 14, his father noticed his natural ability at painting and sent him to toil in the great Titian's studio. He only lasted ten days and the master kicked him out. Some say he was jealous of the boy painter, others claim it more likely he saw his work as so radically different that there was no point in him taking the younger artist on as a student. Tintoretto turned out to be a mostly self-trained artist, perhaps due to this early rejection.

Jesus among the doctors of the church, Tintoretto, ca 1542. Museo del Duomo di Milano

 35 of Tintoretto's works are displayed, along with several others by his mentors and contemporaries, such as Titian, Parmigianino, Veronese and El Greco. The majestic (and enormous) work below opens the exhibit. It tells the story (taken from Jacobus de Voragine's medieval Golden Legend) of a slave about to be martyred for venerating the relics of a saint. St. Mark (patron saint of Venice) intervenes and renders the slave invincible. All weapons used against him are seen broken to bits. It is a powerful work to open the exhibit, but I feel that it might have been better saved until the end, as nothing else in the exhibit matches it.

The Miracle of the slave, Tintoretto, 1548. Galleria dell'Accademia, Venice.

A question that struck me when I saw this: Are there any other works (before the 20th century) that depict a saint (even a gloriously intervening one) in this position? Literally head over heels? I know Chagall got into that, but I don't think I've ever seen it in any of the great Italian masters' work (or Dutch for that matter!). Please illuminate me if I'm wrong!

Venus, Vulcan and Cupid, Tintoretto, ca 1550-1555. Galleria Palatina, Florence.

About halfway through my visit, the exhibit's curator Vittorio Sgarbi sauntered past with a gaggle of journalists in tow, each one straining to get close enough to scribble down his every word. Not too keen to join the crush, the only thing I was able to hear was him calling one particular work (Vulcan surprising Venus with Mars, not pictured) as Berlusconiano, because it was about "sex and not love". Not exactly an inspiring comment! So without the tutoring I was lucky to get at the Guercino exhibit, and with a lack of much scholarship on my part of the work of Tintoretto, part of me is tempted (simply for entertainment value, of course) to quote Woody Allen quoting that art book:

"The rapidity of his brush strokes, the chiaroscuro, outbursts of color, his capacity for controlled gesture..."

"How could I not appreciate a man who was short in stature but with a proud obstinate nature who painted outside the academic conventions of 16th century Venice?" (what I can't transcribe is his proud little giggle at his own brilliance; you'll just have to see the film for that gem). By the way, I have scoured the internet for a clip of that scene but I could only find it in Italian, and another thing I cannot abide is Woody Allen dubbed in Italian. So I will spare you. Oh, right, I'm supposed to be writing about Tintoretto, not Woody Allen. Where was I?

Meeting of Tamar and Judah, Tintoretto, ca 1555-59. Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

This action-packed Last Supper was recently restored on occasion of the exhibit, and it is fascinating (although I preferred the other version on display next to it, not pictured), but my question is, who is sleeping through all this ruckus under Jesus' left arm?

Last Supper, Tintoretto, 1568-69. Chiesa di San Polo, Venice

Unlike most of the other paintings, I didn't particularly like the one below. To be honest, the only thing that came to mind when I saw it was, I really hope heaven won't be so crowded! (I realize this is doubtless a blasphemous thought in many ways.)

The Crowning of the Virgin or Paradise, Tintoretto, ca 1588. Musée du Louvre, Paris

This formidable artist's work can possibly best be summed up in his own words, by the sign he had hanging over his studio, "Il disegno di Michelangelo e il colorito di Tiziano" (the design of Michelangelo and the coloring of Titian). He apparently didn't think too little of himself!

Self Portrait, Tintoretto, 1587. Musée du Louvre, Paris.

If Woody Allen's and my words have left you thirsting for more substantial insight into the work of this "deep genius (the deepest)", there will be four opportunities to hear a real expert talk about some of the works on display. On 9 and 23 March as well as 4 and 18 May (all Fridays) at 7pm, lectures will be held in situ to explore four different paintings (one per lecture) by art historian and Tintoretto expert Anna Maria Panzera (who may or may not be played by Julia Roberts!) Admission to the lecture is included with purchase of exhibition ticket. I wouldn't miss it! Find information on visiting the show at my Exhibits on now page.

All images provided courtesy of the press office of Le Scuderie del Quirinale

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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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Another Caravaggio exhibit?

Rome is obsessed with Caravaggio lately, and I, for one, can relate. I mean, how can you not love art history's favorite bad boy? The artist who dared to paint the world as he saw it and not as the church told him to? I have travelled to Naples, Sicily, Malta and further, just to track down Caravaggio paintings. One of my life’s goals is to see every work he ever painted. 

But even I have to point out that Rome’s Caravaggio fever is starting to get out of hand. Since the year of Caravaggio’s death has been hotly debated (it was originally believed to have been 1609, but now art historians agree it was 1610), we got to celebrate the 400^th anniversary of it for a good two years.

A joint Caravaggio/Francis Bacon exhibit at the Borghese Gallery in 2009 kicked off the Caravaggio madness (I know what you’re thinking: what in the world do Caravaggio and Francis Bacon have to do with each other? Bacon was born in 1909, so it was Bacon’s 100^th birthday and Caravaggio’s 400^th death-day. A bit contrived, perhaps?) But as luck would have it, his death was decided on officially as 1610 in 2010, so another exhibit was in order, this time at the Scuderie del Quirinale, and I must admit, it was spectacular, with many works from private collections that I would have had a difficult time seeing otherwise.

The following 12 months saw a parade of Caravaggio exhibits, one right after the other. The Roman art-going public apparently couldn’t get enough, and the city of Rome cashed in on the craze by dreaming up any possible subject for an exhibit: one recreated his studio to hazard a guess at how he was able to paint so well from life (La Bottega del Genio, Palazzo Venezia), one displayed works by his many followers and imitators (I Caravaggeschi, Palazzo Ruspoli), another one followed his career through the police reports he appeared in (Una vita dal vero, Archivio di Stato) and yet another was entirely dedicated to the techniques he utilized to paint the Contarelli Chapel at San Luigi dei Francesi (La Cappella Contarelli, Palazzo Venezia).

Now that it’s 2012, you know what I could really go for? An exhibit about Caravaggio. I mean, he just doesn’t get any press these days. No wait, I’ve got it: let’s have an exhibit on artists painting in Rome during the same period as Caravaggio, without any actual paintings by him (ok, ok, maybe we’ll put in one) and then let’s slip his name into the title so that people will go see it! I mean, who’s going to pay to see an exhibit on Giovanni Baglione?

This is actually very common, I have found. Case in point: this year’s big Botticelli exhibit that was actually on Filippino Lippi. At least the title of this one was more honest: Rome in the time of Caravaggio. Disclaimer: nowhere does it say you will see any actual works by Caravaggio at this exhibit! Still, just his name is enough to make people form a line out the door and shell out 10 euros. 

Now, after all my complaining, I have to admit, I really liked the exhibit. I knew in advance that the only Caravaggio I would be seeing was one I can see in a church in Rome for free anytime I feel like it, (without 74 people crowding around it), so I didn’t get my hopes up. But the exhibit was so well curated and some of the paintings so glorious that I can honestly say, I thoroughly recommend it, even if you’re starting to feel ODed on Caravaggio.

Here are a few of the highlights, and I will go into greater detail in the next few days. For practical information on visiting the exhibit, see my Exhibits on now page. (It was scheduled to close this weekend, but has been extended to 18 March! More Caravaggio for everyone!)

Susanna and the elders, Arthemesia Gentileschi

St. Cecilia and the angel, Carlo Saraceni

The Penitent Magdalene, Giovan Francesco Guerrieri

Madonna and child, Orazio Gentileschi

St. Augustine in his studio, attributed to Caravaggio

Is the above painting actually a long-lost work by Caravaggio? What do you think?

The Fortune Teller, Simon Vouet

All images provided courtesy of Civita Press Office.

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