Favorite artists - contribute!
That is what you all already are!!!! Bother, I'm such an idiot. I can't stand not being the centre of attention, so instead of quietly going off to drink a cup of tea, I have to derail a wonderful thread to announce to the whole world that I'm having a mean hour.Whistler wrote: we will all try very hard to be as respectful and understanding as possible.
I'm so very sorry.
I'll be back tomorrow with a clearer head.
Thanks.
When I look at a picture I sometimes wonder, "Would I like to have that picture? Would I like to have it every day to look at?"
The answer about the Degas is "No." It is a picture full of pain, and would darken the atmosphere, both in terms of actual physical darkness and emotional or spiritual darkness. Why would he paint it? Artists can be so calculating, maybe he saw it just as an exercise in light and shade, but I don't think so. It tells a story, and it's a hard cruel story. I'm still not sure where he was going with it, though. I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, and let myself believe he felt sorry for that poor girl.
I have very ignorant or uninformed taste in pictures, but I know what I like, as the guy famously said. Henry Ford?
One of my favourite pictures, of which I have a print, is Rosa Bonheur's "The Horse Market". I love that picture, the movement and colour, the great shining rumps of the horses, the man so cool and capable in their midst, all of it. But there are lots of people who sneer at my liking for it, they call it "sentimental", a "calendar picture". Ho hum. I don't care, I like it. I can see it from where I sit in the living room, in my messy corner sort of walled in by books and magazines, and now and again I look up at it, it's nice to be able to go there.
My husband likes Robert Bateman, I don't. But I've given him two prints just the same and they are expensively framed and hanging in our living room, one is the Timber Wolf, the other is The Snow Leopard. The only Bateman picture I like is one of little red birds. I do like a bit of colour!
We have three pictures by a native artist named Eddie Cobiness. One is of a porcupine mother and her baby, one is the bush rabbit and her babies, and one is a hunting weasel staring at a caterpillar on a stem of grass. These pictures are not "typical" native art, at least not typical of the native art from HERE, where I live, where we have the Coast Salish culture and the Haida. Cobiness made light pictures, beautifully drawn, the animals having that "realism" combined with some mystical aspects that make them so lovely.
Athrabeth, yes, my mother-in-law took art lessons from Emily Carr. I don't know exactly when, it would have been in the 1915 - 1920 era or so. My sister-in-law might know. She used to talk about it all the time, it made a lifelong impression on her and she adored Carr's work. When she was a child her parents were very wealthy, her father was a Timber Baron, and they led a pretty grand life, with art lessons and dancing lessons, etc. But the money all went in one of the upsets in the timber business out here, her father's business ended up in the hands of a guy named MacMillan, of whom I'm sure you've heard! Anyway, my m-i-l wound up going to Normal School and becoming a teacher, and she especially loved to teach art, but in those days of the Depression there was no money for art supplies, so she didn't get much chance. She took up painting again in her later years and was really very good. I have stacks of them in a cupboard and feel guilty about it, but they aren't framed and we have nowhere to put them. Besides, I don't really like them, they are dark and in the style I don't like.
The painting by Millais, of the girl keeping a letter from her father, is used as the cover art on my paperback copy of Trollope's "Orley Farm".
I wonder if anyone here has ever heard of an artist named Maude Lewis? She was a "folk artist" from Weymouth county in Nova Scotia. I have one very cheap print of one of her pictures, and a book about her. I love her pictures.
The answer about the Degas is "No." It is a picture full of pain, and would darken the atmosphere, both in terms of actual physical darkness and emotional or spiritual darkness. Why would he paint it? Artists can be so calculating, maybe he saw it just as an exercise in light and shade, but I don't think so. It tells a story, and it's a hard cruel story. I'm still not sure where he was going with it, though. I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, and let myself believe he felt sorry for that poor girl.
I have very ignorant or uninformed taste in pictures, but I know what I like, as the guy famously said. Henry Ford?
One of my favourite pictures, of which I have a print, is Rosa Bonheur's "The Horse Market". I love that picture, the movement and colour, the great shining rumps of the horses, the man so cool and capable in their midst, all of it. But there are lots of people who sneer at my liking for it, they call it "sentimental", a "calendar picture". Ho hum. I don't care, I like it. I can see it from where I sit in the living room, in my messy corner sort of walled in by books and magazines, and now and again I look up at it, it's nice to be able to go there.
My husband likes Robert Bateman, I don't. But I've given him two prints just the same and they are expensively framed and hanging in our living room, one is the Timber Wolf, the other is The Snow Leopard. The only Bateman picture I like is one of little red birds. I do like a bit of colour!
We have three pictures by a native artist named Eddie Cobiness. One is of a porcupine mother and her baby, one is the bush rabbit and her babies, and one is a hunting weasel staring at a caterpillar on a stem of grass. These pictures are not "typical" native art, at least not typical of the native art from HERE, where I live, where we have the Coast Salish culture and the Haida. Cobiness made light pictures, beautifully drawn, the animals having that "realism" combined with some mystical aspects that make them so lovely.
Athrabeth, yes, my mother-in-law took art lessons from Emily Carr. I don't know exactly when, it would have been in the 1915 - 1920 era or so. My sister-in-law might know. She used to talk about it all the time, it made a lifelong impression on her and she adored Carr's work. When she was a child her parents were very wealthy, her father was a Timber Baron, and they led a pretty grand life, with art lessons and dancing lessons, etc. But the money all went in one of the upsets in the timber business out here, her father's business ended up in the hands of a guy named MacMillan, of whom I'm sure you've heard! Anyway, my m-i-l wound up going to Normal School and becoming a teacher, and she especially loved to teach art, but in those days of the Depression there was no money for art supplies, so she didn't get much chance. She took up painting again in her later years and was really very good. I have stacks of them in a cupboard and feel guilty about it, but they aren't framed and we have nowhere to put them. Besides, I don't really like them, they are dark and in the style I don't like.
The painting by Millais, of the girl keeping a letter from her father, is used as the cover art on my paperback copy of Trollope's "Orley Farm".
I wonder if anyone here has ever heard of an artist named Maude Lewis? She was a "folk artist" from Weymouth county in Nova Scotia. I have one very cheap print of one of her pictures, and a book about her. I love her pictures.
Dig deeper.
Well, for a painting that does make a statement on the subject, how about "Unequal Marriage" by Pukirev. Here's an entire Dickens novel on one canvas.
If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn't as cynical as real life.
Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!
Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!
Whistler! I just drove to the recycling depot and back and guess what picture I was thinking of? All the way there and back.
How could I be so stupid? Did anyone else make my mistake?
That brute hasn't raped her yet. He's standing there and thinking about it. That's why it's so horrid! The tension, the way she's lit, the practical things, his clothes are still perfect, the bed is still smooth. Without wishing to be vulgar, if this was the aftermath of the deed, the room and the man would look different.
Whistler, you knew that. It only took me 24 hours to figure it out.
He's hurt her already, I think. They've quarrelled. He's maybe slapped her around, torn her chemise, etc.
Now she's even a more perfect victim, a bigger turn-on, if you like. She's crying and afraid. She wants to get away, and he'll let her go, all right. When he's done with her.
What an amazing picture. What a dork I was, not seeing it right away.
I still wouldn't want to have it around me, though.
How could I be so stupid? Did anyone else make my mistake?
That brute hasn't raped her yet. He's standing there and thinking about it. That's why it's so horrid! The tension, the way she's lit, the practical things, his clothes are still perfect, the bed is still smooth. Without wishing to be vulgar, if this was the aftermath of the deed, the room and the man would look different.
Whistler, you knew that. It only took me 24 hours to figure it out.
He's hurt her already, I think. They've quarrelled. He's maybe slapped her around, torn her chemise, etc.
Now she's even a more perfect victim, a bigger turn-on, if you like. She's crying and afraid. She wants to get away, and he'll let her go, all right. When he's done with her.
What an amazing picture. What a dork I was, not seeing it right away.
I still wouldn't want to have it around me, though.
Dig deeper.
Before.
Although I have to be honest- the first thought I had about this picture was Dostoievsky's short story 'Gentle', where there is no violence or forcing, only a great lack of understanding between the husband and wife. And love, but of the frustrated kind that cannot finds its place. The man at the door might well be suffering, too (not an excuse, just a thought), he could have every right as a husband to have sex with that woman, but no right at all by her lack of willingness. He might not understand the obstacle in his way, and get angry, and barge over the obstacle, forgetting all sentiment and hearing only his lust. He is still a wrongdoer, but a less cold and uncaring one. I can imagine he might be tormented later, stubbornly convincing himself that he was within his right.
I'd really have to see it in more detail to make my mind up.
Although I have to be honest- the first thought I had about this picture was Dostoievsky's short story 'Gentle', where there is no violence or forcing, only a great lack of understanding between the husband and wife. And love, but of the frustrated kind that cannot finds its place. The man at the door might well be suffering, too (not an excuse, just a thought), he could have every right as a husband to have sex with that woman, but no right at all by her lack of willingness. He might not understand the obstacle in his way, and get angry, and barge over the obstacle, forgetting all sentiment and hearing only his lust. He is still a wrongdoer, but a less cold and uncaring one. I can imagine he might be tormented later, stubbornly convincing himself that he was within his right.
I'd really have to see it in more detail to make my mind up.
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Before.
Definitely before.
In a larger version more detail can be seen.
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/D/dega ... e.jpg.html
The man has his eyes fixed upon the woman and there is no mercy in his gaze. Only intent. He seems curiously unaroused, cruel and almost clinical in the way he is studying her. He will force her. She's been reduced to the submissive object of his almighty dominance
I wonder what smooth lies and silky promises he made in order to get her into that room?
Definitely before.
In a larger version more detail can be seen.
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/D/dega ... e.jpg.html
The man has his eyes fixed upon the woman and there is no mercy in his gaze. Only intent. He seems curiously unaroused, cruel and almost clinical in the way he is studying her. He will force her. She's been reduced to the submissive object of his almighty dominance
I wonder what smooth lies and silky promises he made in order to get her into that room?
Ever mindful of the maxim that brevity is the soul of wit, axordil sums up the Sil:
"Too many Fingolfins, not enough Sams."
Yes.
I am not so sure his gaze is all that indifferent to her feelings. He is tense, his back against the door, as if he were trying to be as far away from her as possible without actually leaving the room.
The hands in pockets may only be a feint of nonchalance. What is he guarding? She has resigned. She is not trying to escape. He doesn't have to stand there, and she is not very interesting to study and watch, so still in her chair, with her back to him. Where's the fun for him in that?
The more I think about it the more I think he's torn between his selfish needs and a tiny tiny scrap of morality within him. Very tiny, yet present.
The hands in pockets may only be a feint of nonchalance. What is he guarding? She has resigned. She is not trying to escape. He doesn't have to stand there, and she is not very interesting to study and watch, so still in her chair, with her back to him. Where's the fun for him in that?
The more I think about it the more I think he's torn between his selfish needs and a tiny tiny scrap of morality within him. Very tiny, yet present.
Before, yes. I think vision has it right.
Who is she? A prostitute? His wife? A mistress?
I don't think she's a prostitute because of the jewelry (?) set out on the table. Too expensive for a prostitute.
It's probably his place, because of the travel bag. If she's his wife, she was contemplating leaving him. If she's a mistress, she came for an overnight visit and something didn't go as planned.
It has just occurred to me that this is the sort of speculation my namesake always hated!
Who is she? A prostitute? His wife? A mistress?
I don't think she's a prostitute because of the jewelry (?) set out on the table. Too expensive for a prostitute.
It's probably his place, because of the travel bag. If she's his wife, she was contemplating leaving him. If she's a mistress, she came for an overnight visit and something didn't go as planned.
It has just occurred to me that this is the sort of speculation my namesake always hated!
Well tough for him. If he didn't want people talking about his pictures he should have kept them in the attic.
Something about that woman makes me think she's of a much lower station than the man. Maybe it's just the effect of seeing her in a state of undress, but she seems plain, not a lady, a lady's maid or a governess perhaps, being seduced by the master of the house? And he could be crude enough to buy her expensive jewellery, less preoccupied with keeping things secret than she.
Something about that woman makes me think she's of a much lower station than the man. Maybe it's just the effect of seeing her in a state of undress, but she seems plain, not a lady, a lady's maid or a governess perhaps, being seduced by the master of the house? And he could be crude enough to buy her expensive jewellery, less preoccupied with keeping things secret than she.
I wondered just what he was doing in that room, Rodia. It's not the "marital chamber". It's a woman's room, but not a wife's room. Could be that she's a governess in his house, yes.
But I think it's her room, only he's paid for it, she's his mistress, not necessarily a prostitute, but not a "respectable" woman, either. Maybe an actress or dancer? Women of the respectable sort did NOT live out of a family home in those days. A single daughter stayed in her father's house until she married or was carried out in a box. It seems too nice of a room to be a servant's, even a governess'.
I don't think she's "visiting" in this room. I think she lives or belongs there, wherever "there" is. It's only a bedroom, though, I don't see any means of cooking, or of washing. So, that complicates things a bit.
It could be a room he rents just to have for these little occasions.
But definitely, definitely, he has not yet raped her. It's on his mind, though. The way he's standing, one hesitates to use the word "erect", but that's it. He's like a black cloud, and there is the light all around her, she is a target, a victim. Look at the way he's holding his head, that tells it all, I think. His eyes are narrowed, he's looking sort of down at her.
If it was "after", he'd be sitting on the bed, he would be watching her differently. He seems to have just closed the door, probably locked it, put the key in his pocket. He's made up his mind what comes next.
The valise is hers. It's open, she's putting things in, not taking them out. She may be planning to leave the jewelry behind, or maybe she's got it there to put on before she leaves.
What an amazing picture! I wonder what on earth Degas was thinking, to have painted it? Where could I find out? Does anyone know?
But I think it's her room, only he's paid for it, she's his mistress, not necessarily a prostitute, but not a "respectable" woman, either. Maybe an actress or dancer? Women of the respectable sort did NOT live out of a family home in those days. A single daughter stayed in her father's house until she married or was carried out in a box. It seems too nice of a room to be a servant's, even a governess'.
I don't think she's "visiting" in this room. I think she lives or belongs there, wherever "there" is. It's only a bedroom, though, I don't see any means of cooking, or of washing. So, that complicates things a bit.
It could be a room he rents just to have for these little occasions.
But definitely, definitely, he has not yet raped her. It's on his mind, though. The way he's standing, one hesitates to use the word "erect", but that's it. He's like a black cloud, and there is the light all around her, she is a target, a victim. Look at the way he's holding his head, that tells it all, I think. His eyes are narrowed, he's looking sort of down at her.
If it was "after", he'd be sitting on the bed, he would be watching her differently. He seems to have just closed the door, probably locked it, put the key in his pocket. He's made up his mind what comes next.
The valise is hers. It's open, she's putting things in, not taking them out. She may be planning to leave the jewelry behind, or maybe she's got it there to put on before she leaves.
What an amazing picture! I wonder what on earth Degas was thinking, to have painted it? Where could I find out? Does anyone know?
Dig deeper.
I maintain that he's disturbed by something. If he just locked the door, he is leaning back against it to calm himself down from what has just occurred- a struggle, probably, an argument at the least. She didn't just sit down and start weeping, and he didn't just lock the door and then back up against it as if something threatened him. He is not at ease, he is not confident about what he is going to do. Perhaps it is merely because he is inexperienced, and worries about the woman fighting him, or someone listening at the door, or whatever else. Perhaps it is because he is struggling with his own lust.
They have just come away from each other, and ran to opposite sides of the canvas- she faces away, on her chair, he is pressed against the door. So whatever happened had a strong impact on both of them.
If he were comfortable with the idea of raping her, confident in his power and his right, he wouldn't hold this pose, I think. He would be calmly displaying the key he just locked the door with, standing closer to the centre of the picture. He might be talking to her. He would be expecting her to stop crying and submit to his will.
But instead he stands there as if he were scared. He allowed her to escape to the chair and turn away from him, to ignore him! And he just stands there....why? Composing himself, I think, getting ready. Obviously he's not giving her this last moment of shelter out of good will. He's afraid to do it. He wants to, but he's afraid.
They have just come away from each other, and ran to opposite sides of the canvas- she faces away, on her chair, he is pressed against the door. So whatever happened had a strong impact on both of them.
If he were comfortable with the idea of raping her, confident in his power and his right, he wouldn't hold this pose, I think. He would be calmly displaying the key he just locked the door with, standing closer to the centre of the picture. He might be talking to her. He would be expecting her to stop crying and submit to his will.
But instead he stands there as if he were scared. He allowed her to escape to the chair and turn away from him, to ignore him! And he just stands there....why? Composing himself, I think, getting ready. Obviously he's not giving her this last moment of shelter out of good will. He's afraid to do it. He wants to, but he's afraid.
Well I gotta tell you, thinking that he is not comfortable with what he's going to do just makes the picture more terrifying for me, because I also believe he's going to give in to his lust- squash that tiny flame of good within himself. I don't know why- it's just as good a theory that he does not go through with it. But it's like, painting the scene before a rape is setting a ball rolling- the painted rape now has to happen, especially since we do not see anything that proves it will not.
This picture (the Degas) and the discussion caught my interest. I did some googling on the picture today. One thing that was said, over and over, is that Degas did not title the picture "The Rape." It seems to have acquired that title some time in the early 20th century. Degas' title was "Interior". It's much more ambiguous. Does the scene look different if you don't associate the later title with it? I think it maybe does. Clearly the two are on intimate terms - surely the woman is the man's wife or mistress. Otherwise she wouldn't be sitting around in her chemise.
I don't think she's a prostitute. The pretty lamp, the flowered wallpaper, the gold framed mirror and picture, the pretty bed dressings - this is not a picture of poverty. And it seems clear that it's her room, not his. The fittings are feminine. I also don't think that's a valise on the table. It's too small and there is no handle. I would say it was a jewelry box but it seems to be filled with cloth. Is it a sewing box, perhaps? The cloth on the floor looks as if it might have an embroidery hoop in it, even. (Or... maybe not. What is it, do you think?)
I mean, isn't it possible that the man has found an incriminating letter in her sewing box and is demanding an explanation? That there is tension between them, and that the woman is in distress, seems undeniable. But if you take away the "Rape" title, it's far less clear who has done what to whom. I thought at first that the woman was crying, but now I don't think she is. Her hand is at her mouth, not at her eyes.
I don't think we're meant to know, actually.
Degas was an acute but very cool observer. Here's another example, called The Absinthe Drinker:
Another picture you could make up several stories about. The woman looks pretty hammered. Does that have something to do with the man sitting next to her, smoking and looking away? Is she perhaps a prostitute in the habit of ending her working nights in the local brasserie with a glass - a pretty big glass at that - of absinthe to help her forget?
I have the impression, as I always do with Degas, that he is neither sympathetic nor unsympathic toward his subject. That he is basically only interested in her as a visual object: the complicated coiffure, hat and dress; the drooping eyelids and distant expression; the outthrust feet in their beribboned shoes (does something about their placement suggest she has walked too far and they are hurting?) And then there's her companion - is he her companion? - looking away and smoking his pipe so indifferently. Is he perhaps watching someone who has just come in the door? A bit warily, even?
I want to thank Whistler for sharing the picture that Degas called "The Interior" and (apparently) someone else named "The Rape." I know Degas' work pretty well but had not seen that particular painting before. The more I look at it, the more it fascinates me.
I apologize to yov too for continuing the thread hijack. I confess this exercise of "what's going on in this picture?" fascinates me.
I don't think she's a prostitute. The pretty lamp, the flowered wallpaper, the gold framed mirror and picture, the pretty bed dressings - this is not a picture of poverty. And it seems clear that it's her room, not his. The fittings are feminine. I also don't think that's a valise on the table. It's too small and there is no handle. I would say it was a jewelry box but it seems to be filled with cloth. Is it a sewing box, perhaps? The cloth on the floor looks as if it might have an embroidery hoop in it, even. (Or... maybe not. What is it, do you think?)
I mean, isn't it possible that the man has found an incriminating letter in her sewing box and is demanding an explanation? That there is tension between them, and that the woman is in distress, seems undeniable. But if you take away the "Rape" title, it's far less clear who has done what to whom. I thought at first that the woman was crying, but now I don't think she is. Her hand is at her mouth, not at her eyes.
I don't think we're meant to know, actually.
Degas was an acute but very cool observer. Here's another example, called The Absinthe Drinker:
Another picture you could make up several stories about. The woman looks pretty hammered. Does that have something to do with the man sitting next to her, smoking and looking away? Is she perhaps a prostitute in the habit of ending her working nights in the local brasserie with a glass - a pretty big glass at that - of absinthe to help her forget?
I have the impression, as I always do with Degas, that he is neither sympathetic nor unsympathic toward his subject. That he is basically only interested in her as a visual object: the complicated coiffure, hat and dress; the drooping eyelids and distant expression; the outthrust feet in their beribboned shoes (does something about their placement suggest she has walked too far and they are hurting?) And then there's her companion - is he her companion? - looking away and smoking his pipe so indifferently. Is he perhaps watching someone who has just come in the door? A bit warily, even?
I want to thank Whistler for sharing the picture that Degas called "The Interior" and (apparently) someone else named "The Rape." I know Degas' work pretty well but had not seen that particular painting before. The more I look at it, the more it fascinates me.
I apologize to yov too for continuing the thread hijack. I confess this exercise of "what's going on in this picture?" fascinates me.