A CROPOLIS LIGHT

ACROPOLIS LIGHT

The Art & Art History Publication

Fall Issue 2012 Approaching Shadow | Fan Ho | 1954

Embers | Carter Lyon | 2012

Letter from the Editor

Calendar of Events

Student Articles

Contemporary Artists

Scholarship

Profiles

Major Requirements

Just For Fun Page

5435 Richmond Rd.

Williamsburg, VA. 23188

(757) 675-6627

lindamatneygallery.com

Opening reception

for X-RA*DI*ANCE:

February 10, 2013

2pm-6pm.

Photo by: Skye Keene-Babcook

ACROPOLIS

Editor-in-Chief

Michelle Repper

Executive Layout Editors

Sofia Chabolla & Becca Schall

Executive Scholarship Editor

Morgan Doyle

Executive Article Editor

Matthew Chiarello

Executive Photography Editor

Stephanie Krauss

Treasurer

Won Kun Lee

Contributors

Vincent van Gogh, Starry Night Over the Rhone, 1888

Courtney Raterman

Cristina Stancioiu

Jarrett Ley

Carter Lyon

Lucy Macon

Alan Braddock

Skye Keene-Babcook

Joél Elías Carela

Travis Carr

Ashley Irizarry

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Dear Reader,

Welcome to the second issue of Acropolis, the only art and art history maga-

zine on campus. Many changes differentiate our final product this semester from

last semester; in the fall our magazine was entitled: Spirit of the Living Watching ,

which we decided to change to Acropolis. The fall semester was certainly a learn-

ing experience, and we gleaned a lot from producing “Genesis,” our first issue. We

became familiar with the process of creating a magazine, and gained a feel for

what content our readership responded to. This semester we received funding from

the Publications Council to publish our magazine in print, and we were inducted

into the Publications Council, which will mean more stability in the future in terms

of funding. In order to utilize the advantages of both print and online publishing,

we decided to have an abbreviated print version and an extended on-line version

of this issue (which can be found at issuu.com). The print version will give the

reader a rich glimpse of our publication. It includes a calendar of events, articles,

photographs, profiles of students and professors, contemporary art exposés,

information for art and art history students, scholarship abstracts and a comics

page. The online version will have all of the same content, except it will include ex-

tended versions of almost every section, and helpful links for interested readers.

This semester we chose the theme “light” because light is such an integral

element in all of art. It is in fact so integral that it is often forgotten as a formal ele-

ment when considering the merits of a work. We wanted to bring this element back

to the conscious critical mind. How can light define a work? How does light help a

work realize its full potential? These are the questions we want you to ask when

looking through the pages of the Spring 2012 Acropolis.

We could not be happier to present

to you our first ever print issue: “Light,”

and we know that there will be many more

print and online magazines for you to

look forward to in the future.

Happy reading!

Michelle S. Repper

Class of 2013

Majors: Art & Art History/ South Asian Studies

Editor-in-Chief

Photo by: Michelle Repper

EVENTS 2 0 1 3

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat 1

New Year’s

Day

2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10 11 12

13 14 15

16

W&M

Classes

Start

17 18 19

20

Inauguration

Day

21

MLK DAY

22 23

24 25 26

27

28 29 30 31

JANUARY

30 31

Events, Exhibitions, and Dates

21 MLK Day

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat

1

2

Groundhog

Day

3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10 Opening Re-

ception for “X-

RA*DI*ENCE”

show 2-6PM Linda

Matney Gallery

11

12

Fat Tuesday

Mardi Gras

13 14

Valentine’s

Day

15 16

W&M Global

Film Festival

17

W&M Global

Film Festival

18

W&M Global

Film Festival

19

W&M Global

Film Festival

20 21 22 23

24

36

Events, Exhibitions, and Dates

27 28

FEBRUARY

26

Michelangelo: Sacred and Profane Masterpieces from the Casa Buonarroti February 9 - April 14

A Brush with Passion: Mattia Preti (1613-1699) February 9 - April 14

24 25 26

CW Antiques Forum: Feb 24-26th, 8:30 am to 7pm @ Williamsburg Lodge Conference Center

1 2

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat 1

2

3 4 5 6

7 8 9

10

Daylight

Savings

11 12

13 14

15 16

17

18 19 20 21 22 23

24

Easter

25 26

Passover

27 28 29 30

_________

31

MARCH Events, Exhibitions, and Dates

Spring Break 2013

Panorama Photos by: Skye Keene-Babcook

Domestic, Wild, Divine: Artists Look at Animals NOV 21 – APR 04

Mellon Galleries

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat 1 2 3 4 5 6

7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14

15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26

W&M

Last Day of

Classes

27

28

29 30

12 13

APRIL Events, Exhibitions, and Dates

The Smithsonian: Thomas Day: Master Craftsman & Free Man of Color: Apr 12- Jul 28

28 29

The Smithsonian The Civil War and American Art: Nov 16-Apr 28

Photo by: Skye Keene-Babcook

STUDENT ARTICLES

As I hopped off of the shuttle bus, my

very first impression of the building featured

a white sign with bold black letters nailed

onto the door. It read: “I am working so

please do not disturb. I do not sign auto-

graphs.” Here was the former home and stu-

dio of famous American painter Andrew

Wyeth, part of a three generation artistic leg-

acy. With the help of his wife, Betsy, and his

son, Jamie, the Brandywine River Museum

has restored and staged the Chadds Ford,

Pennsylvania building, giving visitors a

glimpse into the life of this prolific painter.

Originally, the family lived here, but after sev-

eral years they moved, leaving the space

solely to Andrew. He worked here from 1940

to 2008.

When I walked into this private space -

past the sign warning against outsiders - I

was immediately surrounded by Andrew’s

family, friends, and models. The walls of the

foyer and hallway are filled top to bottom with

photographs documenting the people and

places important to Wyeth. One corner even

features phone numbers and names hand-

written by Andrew directly onto the wall. Off

to the right sits the kitchen, an eclectic mix of

retro appliances and simple, wooden furni-

ture that was once the social center of the

home.

To the left lies a large, open room with streamlined but aged wood floors. Large win-dows look out onto the surrounding field from three different walls. Midmorning summer

A Visit with Andrew The Private Studio of A. Wyeth

By: Morgan Doyle

Photos Taken by: Morgan Doyle

Read more at issuu.com/acropolisarthistory

Photos Taken by: Morgan Doyle

Read more at issuu.com/acropolisarthistory

light came pouring into the otherwise dark

room as I glanced around. A few pieces of

furniture and a fireplace sit lonely and

dwarfed in the large space. Almost immedi-

ately I had a strange feeling that I had been

there before. And I had. Numerous paintings

feature the elements found here including

Monologue (1965), The Kass (1975), and

Helga Painting (1988). By moving a few steps

this way or turning my body that way, I recre-

ated the views that Andrew saw and re-

corded.

As amusing as my déjà vu was, con-

necting the physical space to two-dimensional

representations of it, a small, run-down room

off to the side was even more fascinating.

Here - where the uneven paint peeled off the

walls and the ceiling threatened to crumble,

where sketches chaotically adorned the walls

and coffee-stained drawings scattered about

floor – was where Andrew made tangible his

artistic visions. Here was where the true proc-

ess occurred.

A large easel stood in the middle of the

room, shielding the canvas from eyes peeking

in through the doorway. An over life-sized

mirror was placed near the wall, behind both

the easel and where Andrew would have

stood to work. Though hidden from his sight

the majority of the time, Andrew used the mir-

ror to alter his view of a canvas in progress,

giving him a fresh perspective after long

hours of work. In this workspace, Andrew sur-

rounded himself with sketches and drawings

of his subjects. He used these as studies for

his paintings, carefully observing and realiz-

ing specific forms or deciding on poses and

positions. They ranged from quick outlines to

detailed figures and were haphazardly strewn

about the room, posted up on the walls and

thrown across the floor. For Andrew, the

drawings were important because of the idea

he was able to get out of his head and the

practice his hand received; the process was

more important than the product, hence the

careless placements and coffee stains.

On tabletops lie the various paints and

brushes Andrew used. He strayed away from

conventional oil paints and instead preferred

egg tempera. The medium suited Andrew

quite well – he found that the mix of egg yolk

and pigment gave him rich, real colors, par-

ticularly earth tones. He was also able to

paint slowly and give his finished pieces a

high level of detail. On the other hand,

Andrew worked swiftly with watercol-

ors. He used this medium for moments of

free artistic expression, versus the controlled

and painstaking process of egg tempera.

When a watercolor did need more detail, An-

drew used a dry-brush technique.

Compared to his disastrous work-

space, Andrew’s paintings are known for

their elegant simplicity and clean detail. The

contradiction of the two was shocking. I

could barely concentrate in the studio, my

eye wandering from object to object, from

peeling paint to pencil sketch, examining this

area and then the next, trying to see and

comprehend. Somehow, the chaos of the

room was turned into a masterful work of art.

As I walked out of the door into the

bright sun-lit field, I found myself thinking

about the creative energy that had once

flowed through the house. Of all the ideas

and visions that ran through Andrew’s mind,

we, as the public, only see a minute portion.

The final versions of artists’ inspired exer-

tions and efforts are deliberately framed and

methodically hung against crisp, white

walls. Curators specifically choose each

work of art and then meticulously arrange

and display them in museum showrooms.

Though we think that we can appreciate art

in this sterile, controlled environment, there

is so much that we miss. We completely ne-

glect the process, which is just as important

as the final object.

When we put ourselves in this posi-

tion, we cannot fully value the amount of

mental and physical effort that the artist put

forth into realizing his artistic vision. So

much of the decision and alteration process

is missed. We also tend to forget the person

behind these masterpieces. We fail to re-

member that they had parents and child-

hoods, friends and relationships, children

and struggles. Visiting Andrew’s studio and

home made me acutely aware of the dis-

crepancies between artistic vision and the

final work of art. The short experience I had

with his personal space gave me such a dif-

ferent perspective on not only his pieces, but

on art in general. º

Photos Taken by: Morgan Doyle

A Discussion of Andrew Wyeth’s Studio, in

Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, open to the

public as of July 3rd

. The museum is featur-

ing an exhibition titled A Painter’s View: The

Andrew Wyeth Studio in conjunction with

the opening.

How does a visit to the studio help our

understanding of Andrew’s creative process

and his final works?

I think it gives visitors a chance to see

what inspired him, specifically. When you look at

his work you’re not necessarily aware that he

had a great interest in military history. When you

look at a landscape you may not see that as an

obvious reference. But when you go to the stu-

dio you find out that there was, in fact, an early

silent film, The Big Parade, that he watched

over 200 times that dealt with World War I. He

collected military uniforms, he collected swords

and sabers, he collected over 1200 military

miniature figures, from the time he was a child.

And so you get to see a lot of those objects that

he surrounded himself with and get to learn

about how that did impact his work and you can

look for those influences.

You also get to see the room where he actually did the painting. And the mess that it is in there. One of his famous quotes is “Art is messy.” And again you don’t necessarily see that when you look at his work. His work is very detailed, at times it seems very controlled on the

Interview with Mary Cronin Supervisor of Education at the Brandywine River Museum Morgan Doyle

Photos Taken by: Morgan Doyle

surface. But when you get into this room

and you see that there’s paint on the floor, on the

wall, the ceiling is sagging, you get the idea that

he did paint in a very free style overall. And you

can start to look for that in his work.

Was there anything particular or unique

to his methods? Was the messiness unique?

I think he’s probably right that for many art-

ists art is messy, even if the finished product

doesn’t express that. He wasn’t afraid to get his

hands dirty and experiment with paint, experiment

with media.

How important was medium to Andrew?

He very consciously chose the media that

he used. His father was an oil painter, and when

he first started out [under his father] he worked in

pencil and he worked in oil. It was later that his

brother-in-law, Peter Hurd, introduced him to egg

tempera and it really wasn’t until after his father’s

death that he explored that medium further.

[Tempura] allowed him to spend more time with a

subject, to paint in great detail, to really delve into

every nook and cranny of something. I think he

consciously chose to do egg tempera rather than

oil and he also very consciously chose to work in

watercolor. Initially, he just had this great facility

for watercolor. He was very successful. His works

sold quickly. But as time went on he used that for

sort of taking a break when he was working on

tempera to capture something quickly. And he

also did many works in dry brush watercolor,

which is similar to tempera in that it allows for

great detail. I think medium with Andrew Wyeth’s

work is very significant. And whether he chose to

create a quick watercolor study of something ver-

sus a finished tempera piece was very significant

for him.

What are the benefits of a visit to any

artistic studio, particularly for the general pub-

lic?

There are definitely visitors here who may

have a vague idea of who the Wyeth’s might be

but they’re not that familiar with their work. And

we have two studios on view, both the N.C.

Wyeth’s studio, Andrew’s father, and Andrew

Wyeth’s. They’re very different. But I think in both

cases you get to see ‘what did that artist have

around them for everyday inspiration?’ ‘what was

important to them?’ ‘what was their environment?’.

The N.C. studio you can look out the window and

there’s a tree he put into his illustrations. [It’s] in-

teresting that he would paint things that were so

close but he could use his imagination and trans-

port the viewer to medieval England. …I think you

get insight into how an artist works, what are their

sources, what are their references. A lot of art is

from imagination, but a great deal of it is from ob-

servation as well. I think it’s a combination of the

two. So when you see a studio you start to under-

stand that more, that [artists] observe things that

are right there and then they use their imagination

to transform those things. You’ll rarely find some-

thing in the studio and then see a painting of it

that looks exactly like what the object is, because

artists are always picking and choosing and edit-

ing… the way a writer would. º

Public perception of contemporary art is frequently considered to be muddled, and a trip to the Museum of Modern Art or the Guggen-heim in New York may have visitors leaving more puzzled than enlightened. Artists Dan Fla-vin and Tracey Emin are far more literal when it comes to “enlightenment,” each utilizing fluores-cent lights in their primary works, although in markedly different ways. Flavin’s greens cross-ing greens (to Piet Mondrian who lacked green) from 1966 strikingly dissimilar from Emin’s With You I Want To Live of 2007. Flavin’s utter ab-stractness and Emin’s strict depictions appear to be polar opposites, despite their use of the same media. The purposes of their production each emerge seamlessly through fluorescent

lights, and this form in turn importantly affects the ultimate messages present in their works. Although Flavin only began working with electric lights in 1961, his relatively rapid aban-donment of canvas altogether in 1968 came to define him as a conceptual artist. His “barred corridors” such as greens crossing greens fo-cused on the inherent relationship between space and sculpture. In his exploration of light and space, Flavin thwarted limits set by institu-tionalized means of display. Greens crossing greens intrudes into the viewer’s space, block-ing access to the gallery at the Guggenheim. Flavin’s lights do not simply light an area; they flood the walls in patterns of color and light, im-mersing the viewer and the space in synthetic

Dan Flavin’s and Tracey Emin’s Eye-Catchers by Courtney Raterman

Greens crossing greens (to Piet Mondrian who lacked green), Dan Flavin, 1966

Fluorescent Light Transformations

With You I Want To Live, Tracey Emin, 2007

light. Furthermore, his ability to transform basic

fluorescent bulbs into aesthetic objects enabled him

to emerge at the fore of both the industrial and the

found art movements. The emphasis on simple,

geometric forms and indistinct relationships among

parts became the notable attributes of the minimalist

movement. Whereas Flavin’s use of light emerged

in the fabric of stark essentialism, Emin’s light fix-

tures operate on the premises of complete declara-

tions. Using fluorescents to construct phrases of

hope, collapse, love, and loss, light lends pathos to

her works that only augment the candor and explicit

nature of the words themselves. Her work With You

I Want To Live is exemplary of the tenderness easily

accessible in her art while it simultaneously details

variegated emotions and notions of stylized self-

promotion. The work reveals her obsession with

passion, complete with peaks and chasms, brightly

shining on the face of each viewer in its immediate

zone. Her straight-forwardness is nowhere more

clear than in her tent stitched with 102 names of

people she ever slept with , entitled aptly, Everyone

I Have Ever Slept With. Though subtlety seems not

to be the archetypal adjective when describing

Emin, her earnest nature keeps her art relevant and

her audiences craving more. Her art’s ability to com-

municate states of the soul through a medium as

conventional as a light bulb lends a universality that

is evocative, strange, and beautiful at the same

time.

Flavin and Emin’s employment of florescent

bulbs as the basic building blocks of their works

speaks heavily to the timelessness of light and the

questions it continues to ask of both its environment

and viewers alike. The shadows that dance on the

walls of international museums indicate light’s con-

tinued ascent to the ranks of high art. Flavin’s con-

ception of his work as a unified piece through the

handling of formal, phenomenological, and implicit

characteristics demand the viewer to consider

Everyone I Have Ever Slept With

1963=1995, Tracey Emin, 1995

formal dichotomies of color, design, and intensity as well as the apparent and the latent, the severe and the whimsical. Whereas Flavin’s purpose is perhaps more discrete, Emin’s internal truths and secrets are illuminated brightly - in plain form - for all the world to see. How might these two artists connect with each other through their usage of light in their art? Each artist’s wide-ranging oeuvre leaves art critics and zealots alike contemplating eye-catching col-ors scrawled luminously into their locations, trans-forming museums and galleries into spectacles. Perhaps it is light’s ubiquitous nature that, when inverted into new arrangements, provides an acute awareness about the human experience . Light’s extensive appeal to human emotion pro-vides significant accessibility for even the most perplexed and removed art viewers, enveloping all in its ephemeral and mesmerizing glow. º

Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963=1995,

Tracey Emin, 1995

The Effect of Light Frederic Edwin Church’s painting El Khasne, Petra (1874)

Frederic Edwin Church’s El Khasne,

Petra, portrays Al-Khazneh (Treasury), a

temple (or tomb) in the ancient rock city of

Petra, Jordan. Executed in 1874, Church

uses light and shadow to emphasize the dra-

matic setting and inspire wonder. Dark rock

walls on either side of the painting create a

sense of claustrophobia, forcing the viewers’

eyes upward towards the rock-cut temple of

Petra, a structure suffused with golden light.

The relatively bare and simple land-

scape in El Khasne marked a significant de-

parture from Church’s typical works that de-

picted panoramic scenes of lush, vibrant wil-

derness. Church was a popular painter of the

Hudson River School, a group of nineteenth

century artists known for their grandiose

paintings of American wilderness. Like other

Hudson River School painters, Church’s sub-

lime landscapes attempted to forge a

uniquely American form of art that fostered

national identity by portraying vast regions of

American territory. Church, however, pushed

the limits of mid-century landscape art by de-

picting natural scenes located outside the

boundaries of the United States, while still

drawing a link between the distant land and

the American nation. Light was one of the

most important elements he used to portray

national spirit. Gerald L. Carr, an art historian

with several books on Church, explains that

“[t]he thing that most energized Church as an

artist was light. It is apparent in all his fin-

ished paintings, outdoor studies, and studio

canvases.” Light in Church’s paintings has a

self-illuminating quality so that the canvas

seems to glow with its own internal light. Carr

describes this aesthetic phenomenon as one

in which “[l]ight splashes his painted sur-

faces, and radiates, or seems to radiate from

beneath them.” This self-illumination has a

striking effect, suggesting transcendence and

the inherent spiritual power of the natural

world.

Light came to play a different role in

Church’s later works; rather than evoking

community, Church’s use of light emphasized

a subjective experience that encouraged mel-

ancholy introspection.

The sweeping landscapes celebrating

American identity that characterized Church’s

early work shifted during the 1860s. Amer-

ica’s descent into Civil War left Church disillu-

sioned; and although Church painted land-

scapes until the end of his life in 1900, the

tone of his work in the latter part of the nine-

teenth century shifted away from triumphant

nationalism. El Khasne, Petra is one of the

paintings that emerged from this post-Civil

War mentality that de-emphasized a commu-

nity vision. His earlier works rarely included

human figures or man-made structures, but

paintings executed from the late 1860s and

onward focused less on the natural land-

scape and more on the human element, par-

ticularly ruins. This is not to say that Church

abandoned the landscape, it remained cen-

tral to his style and content; yet, these later

landscapes are characterized by a despon-

Ashley Irizarry

dent, versus an exultant tone. The mental

shift Church experienced did not change his

artwork altogether, as Church continued to

demonstrate a dedication to the dramatic in-

terplay of light, color, and shadow to create

beautiful and awe-inspiring scenes.

In contrast to his early work, light in El

Khasne evokes a subjective experience

rather than an all-encompassing vision of na-

tionhood. Replacing the bird’s-eye vantage

point of his other paintings, El Khasne situ-

ates the viewer in the narrow foreground. The

extreme verticality created by the dark can-

yon walls induces discomfort, which is only

relieved by the slim entrance into the open

sunlight at the foot of the temple. In his book

examining the relationship between imagery

and nineteenth century American religion and

nationalism, John Davis argues that “[t]he

structure of El Khasne, Petra replicates a

state of anxiety and anticipation. The glowing

temple offers itself as a kind of visual escape,

the need to move forward to the light becom-

ing all but irresistible.” The uncomfortable

narrowness created in the foreground intensi-

fies the effect of the light; the bright walls rev-

eled between the canyon provide relief from

the darkness, but not an escape from the dis-

comfort of the scene. The light is brilliant, but

also blinding.

The colors of Al-Khazneh (the tomb-temple)

also contribute to the powerful effects of the

light in the painting. Instead of a busy ar-

rangement of colors, Al-Khazneh’s surface is

plain, adorned only by the angles, lines, and

curves of temple’s architecture. However, the

pale yellow-brown of Petra’s walls amplify the

golden effect of the sunlight, creating a feel-

ing of transcendence. In a letter to his friend,

E.D. Palmer, Church asks him to “imagine

this fairy like Temple blazing like sunlight

amongst those savage black rocks.”

This interaction between sunlight and

the plain walls of the rock-cut edifice pushes

viewers toward a personal, spiritual revela-

tion. The harsh brightness of the sun reflect-

ing off of the exterior of Al-Khazneh mutes

the details of the temple. Figures cut between

the pillars are discernible, but barely distin-

guishable. One cannot tell exactly what each

image represents, while the finer features of

the column capitals are drowned into vague

swirls. In suppressing the temple’s details,

the light becomes a spiritual force in the

painting, overwhelming the viewer so that

personal identity is subsumed within a larger

divine power.

This loss of the viewer’s identity within

a higher power was a significant aspect of

Church’s artwork immediately following the

Civil War. Religious themes had always been

a key component of his work, but after the

publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species in

1859, Church experienced a religious crisis,

which he sought to mitigate by visiting Bibli-

cal sites in the Middle East. The paintings

that came out of this trip, including El

Khasne, engaged with theology in a different

way than before. Church’s panoramic wilder-

ness scenes paralleled the grand, imposing

power of God, the viewer is supposed to

draw peace and comfort from a God-imbued

landscape. In El Khasne, the viewer is meant

to feel blinded and isolated. The deep shad-

owed canyon before the city is lonely, even

the small human figures on the left side of

the canvas do nothing to alleviate the soli-

tude of the viewer’s experience. Instead, the

figures heighten the sense of isolation. The

two men are located far back in the canvas,

away from the implicit viewer, leaving the

onlooker deserted. Like the decorative fig-

ures on Al-Khazneh, their features are indis-

tinguishable. Blurred into darkness rather

than light the painting’s observer cannot con-

nect with these shadowed figures. By turning

them away from the entrance to Petra, they

appear unconcerned with the transcendent

light behind them, leaving the viewer alone in

their spiritual revelation.

Light in Church’s El Khasne, Petra

acts as spiritual force, provoking a personal

experience of the ancient rock city in Jordan.

Contrasted with Church’s serene and sub-

lime wilderness landscapes, light in this

painting marks a departure from the tran-

scendent nationalism in his early artwork. El

Khasne is both transcendent and disquieting;

the constricted space opening into dazzling

sunlight paralleling the artist’s own experi-

ence of Petra. As a piece that parallels the

artist’s own experience at Petra, El Khasne is

a work that is both transcendent and disqui-

eting with the constricted space opening into

dazzling sunlight. º

1. Jordan Tourism Board, “Petra,” Jordan Tourism Board, http://www.visitjordan.com/default.aspx?tabid=63.

2. Frances K. Pohl, Framing America: A Social History of American Art (New York: Thames & Hudson Inc., 2002), 135.

3. Berry-Hill Galleries, “Consultant and Author of the Frederic E. Church Catalogue Raisonne,” Berry-Hill, http://www.berry-hill.com/about/GLcarr.html

4. Gerald L. Carr, Frederic Edwin Church: Romantic Land-scapes and Seascapes (New York: Adelson Galleries, 2007), 66.

5. John Davis, The Landscape of Belief: Encountering the Holy Land in Nineteenth-Century American Art and Culture (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press: 1996), 172.

6. Davis, The Landscape of Belief, 196. 7. The painting’s title, El Khasne is actually a misspelling of

the tomb-temple’s real name, Al-Khazneh. Church probably gave a phonetic spelling of the building.

8. Frederic E. Church to E.D. Palmer, Jaffa—Palestine, 10 March 1868. Quoted in Kevin J. Avery, Treasures from Olana: Landscapes by Frederic Edwin Church (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press: 2005), 55.

Fingerings, Judith Anne Braun

CONTEM- PORARY ARTISTS

Contemporary Artist

Tomas Saraceno

On the Roof “Cloud City” Tomás Saraceno, Summer 2012

Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York

Pictures courtesy of the MET exhibi-

tionThis summer, as part of the MET’s

annual roof-garden installation,

Argentine artist Tomás Saraceno created

a massive maze of reflective and trans-

parent modules. Viewers were able to en-

ter Saraceno’s “Cloud City” to gain an en-

tirely new perspective views of the iconic

New York City skyline.

Amanda Means Amanda Means uses photography to

capture her chaotic surrounding environment

with images of nature and common house-

hold objects. Her exploration in photography

focuses on the duality of natural and human

built environments. These negative gelatin

silver prints show extreme detail in their light

& dark contrast of plants.

Flower (Number 86)

Amanda Means, 1996

Gelatin Silver Print

Above

Across: Sensitive Form

Amanda Means, 1990

Contemporary Artist

Ai Weiwei is a contemporary Chinese

artist who works in a variety of media, includ-

ing sculpture, photography and architec-

ture. He is celebrated worldwide for incorpo-

rating social and political criticism into his

works and is a particularly outspoken dissi-

dent against governmental corruption in

China. Unresponsive authorities have cen-

sored, surveilled, and imprisoned him for his

opinions, but he remains a prominent activist

in China. His artworks reflect a repeated fo-

cus on threatened freedom of expression

and its universal impact upon the world. Ai

often revitalizes the collective memory of

past abhorrences to the Chinese people by

its government through his art.

Clockwise from upper left

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, 1995

Light Installation in Tokyo, Japan

Fountain of Light, 2007

20 Chairs from Qing dynasty Han Dynasty Urn with Coca-Cola

Logo, 1994 | Paint and Han Dy-nasty urn, (206-220)

Map of China, 2004 | Iron wood

from dismantled Qing Dynasty tem-ples (1644-1911)

Ai Weiwei Contemporary Artist

Woman Framed by Sunburst Sculpture, 1930s

ART HISTORY SCHOLARSHIP

The Harlem Renaissance is usually dis-

cussed in terms of its relationship to the African-

American community and black visual and literary

expression; but there is another minority group that

left a lasting impression upon the movement. A vi-

brant homosexual subculture existed in Harlem, and

many of its members were also leading lights of the

Harlem Renaissance; these included artists like

Richmond Barthe and Aaron Douglas, and writers

such as Alain Locke and (probably) Langston

Hughes. The influence of homosexuality on the

works produced during the Harlem Renaissance is

wide and varied. The in-depth evaluations of the

many pieces of artwork, literature, and even music

that address homosexual themes reveal an impor-

tant connection between the two. This gay subcul-

ture also served as an outlet for a younger genera-

tion of artists to oppose the proper, middle-class val-

ues of W.E.B. DuBois’ talented tenth and Alain

Locke’s “New Negro” by focusing on sexual devi-

ance, the lower classes, and other transgressions. In

Harlem, this subculture, though not always implicitly

approved of or accepted, thrived and involved nu-

merous key figures of the Renaissance. Conse-

quently, it is just as important to see the Harlem

Renaissance as a flourishing of black gay culture as

it is to see it as a flourishing of black culture.

It is important to first establish that this homo-

sexual subculture did not emerge out of a vacuum;

Harlem’s development as a center for vibrant night-

life, sexual fluidity, and experimentation peaked dur-

ing the Harlem Renaissance as “the efforts of anti-

vice movements in white areas of New York led to

the closure of numerous establishments that offered

or tolerated sexual entertainment.”1 Harlem, then,

became the place to which those of all races jour-

neyed to either act as spectator or participant in a

wide range of sexually “deviant” behavior. These in-

cluded both heterosexual and homosexual spaces,

as oftentimes both existed in the same place. In this

way the presence of a homosexual subculture during

the Harlem Renaissance is not analogous, to say, a

modern gay community, as sexual identities were

largely viewed with a degree of fluidity; as George

Chauncey states, “the binary of homo-/

heterosexuality did not yet govern most people’s per-

ception of sexual relationships during the 1920s.”2

Still many did outwardly identify as homosexual, in-

cluding prominent artists and writers like Richard

Bruce Nugent, Richmond Barthe, Carl Van Vechten,

and the founder of the New Negro Movement him-

self, Alain Locke.

These spaces for sexual experimentation and

queer expression included “drag balls, ‘pansy pa-

rades,’ buffet flats, and rent parties,”3 and were a

significant part of Harlem’s dynamic nightlife scene.

Harlem was famous for its over-the-top drag balls,

which Langston Hughes famously described as

Homosexuality and the Harlem Renaissance A Radical Vision of the New Negro Through the Lens of Sexual Transgression

Fig. 1 Aaron Douglas, Cover of FIRE!!, 1926

“spectacles in color.”4 Highly-anticipated, these

events could draw crowds of upwards of five thou-

sand people and featured a beauty contest in which

“the fashionably dressed drags would vie for the title

of Queen of the Ball.”5 However these events were

nearly just as much for the spectators as for those

participating in this early form of queer performativ-

ity; many would come to these drag balls merely to

gawk at the men dressed in elaborate gowns and

make-up and women dressed in suits and top hats.

Whether the majority of this audience was there to

indulge in a “deviant” form of sexual expression or

out of mere fascination is unclear, though their pres-

ence highlights the fact that this subculture held a

certain kind of perverse allure to those who would

normally have existed far outside its reach.

Gay-oriented clubs and speakeasies were

also popular, as they offered a safe space for public

homosocial interaction. Probably the most famous

was Harry Hansberry’s Clam House on 133rd Street;

its main attraction was the performer Gladys Bent-

ley, a “250-pound masculine, dark-skinned lesbian,

who performed all night long in a white tuxedo and

top hat.” 6 Bentley was renowned for her stage pres-

ence, deep singing voice, and ability to incorporate

raunchy lyrics into her songs. These songs made

use of “double entendres and often directly referred

to sex, gay men, and lesbians.”7 Blair Niles, a white

female author, published a famous gay novel in

1931 titled Strange Brother which includes a speak-

easy called The Lobster Pot which is based on the

Clam House; it even features a lesbian performer

named Sybil whose characterization owes much to

the persona of Bentley.8 Its prominent presence in

literature and popular culture of the time confirms

that it was not some hyper-marginalized space that

existed completely outside of the mainstream; of

course it did operate on the outer skirts of middle-

class propriety, but it did still attract people of all

walks of life, not just those “in the lifestyle.” This

again stresses the fluidity and toleration of experi-

mentation that can largely characterize the era.

Private spaces of homosexual interaction

and display like the rent parties and buffet flats of-

fered a more explicit area for expression. Rent par-

ties were extremely popular for all members of Har-

lem’s nightlife scene, and predominantly homosex-

ual rent parties were far from scarce. Raucous and

booze-filled, they featured heavily in literature of the

time including Wallace Thurman’s 1932 novel Infants

of the Spring, which includes a scene in which a bi-

sexual Harlem artist shows off his latest male lover

at a rent party.9 Heiress A’Lelia Walker, a local ce-

lebrity, was also known for throwing lavish parties

that “had a distinctly gay ambiance,”10 while Alexan-

Figs. 2. Aaron Douglas, Three Drawings from FIRE!!, 1926

Alexander Gumby’s literary salon became a

popular spot for homosocial interaction in which an

evening could include “‘reefer,’ bathtub gin, a game

of truth, and homosexual exploits.” 11 And these

over-the-top affairs seem almost tame in compari-

son to some of the more debauched private parties,

namely those termed “buffet flats;” wild parties

where all forms of illegal activity took place, they

gained a reputation for their offering of “a variety of

sexual pleasures cafeteria- style.” Both private and

public spaces for sexual deviance allowed for the

emergence and expression of homosexuality, often

directly alongside heterosexual illicitness. All of this

contributes to the overall feel that Harlem, though it

didn’t necessarily feature a gay community in the

way modern society would conceptualize it, was a

scene where anything goes; and clearly one of

which was homosexuality.

As has already been stressed, a large num-

ber of prominent members of the Harlem Renais-

sance were engaged in this homosexual subculture

that emerged in the 1920s. Many of these, generally

a younger generation of artists and writers, came to

be known collectively as The Cabaret School;

Langston Hughes, Wallace Thurman, Claude McKay

and Carl Van Vechten were all considered to be

“members.” This group stood largely in direct con-

trast to the ideologies of the Fathers of the Harlem

Renaissance, namely W.E.B. DuBois and Alain

Locke; these proponents of the New Negro move-

ment wanted the Harlem Renaissance to promote

black morality and positive role models, to use art

and literature as propaganda in the face of en-

trenched stereotypes held by white society. They

therefore saw the Cabaret School, with “its tendency

toward black sensuousness, exhibitionism, primitiv-

ism, and sensationalism, as a distraction, or worse,

an impediment to their vision of the Renaissance.”

13 The works of this Cabaret School, and those

more tangentially related to it, are the main focus of

this essay for they operated within this newly emer-

gent, though complex, realm in which homosexuality

was an extremely important component. Of course,

not all out-gay figures of Harlem were opposed to

DuBois’ ideology of the talented tenth; Locke himself

was a known homosexual, and the poet Countee

Cullen also “had little difficulty adopting the privi-

leges and double standards of middle- class gay

male identities in the early twentieth century.” 14

Perhaps the group’s greatest collective

achievement is the publication of FIRE!! in 1926,

ironically just one year after Alain Locke published

Figs. 3-4. Aaron Douglas, Three Drawings from FIRE!!, 1926 ; Fig. 5. Richard Bruce Nugent, Jesus and Judas, 1947

his seminal work The New Negro. A literary and art

publication, it lasted for only a single issue, yet it is

considered one of the most influential works of the

Harlem Renaissance. Featuring writings by

Langston Hughes, Richard Bruce Nugent, Zorea

Neal Hurston and Wallace Thurman, and artwork by

Aaron Douglas, the magazine served as a contro-

versial and even radical proclamation against Du-

Bois and Locke’s vision of black identity in the Har-

lem Renaissance. Many of its creators and contribu-

tors were either openly gay (as in the case of Rich-

ard Bruce Nugent) or a bit more ambiguous (Aaron

Douglas, Langston Hughes, Wallace Thurman). Re-

gardless, the issue had a very obvious dialogue with

the world of homosexuality and sexual fluidity. Farah

Jasmine Griffin writes that “the journal succeeded in

shattering expectations of respectability.” 16 By ex-

plicitly dealing with topics like homosexuality, bi-

sexuality, prostitution, and other vices and their rela-

tion to the African-American community, FIRE!! was

flying in the face of DuBois’ talented tenth.

Aaron Douglas contributed both the cover

(see Fig. 1) and several drawings (see Figs. 2-4)

that appear within the pages of FIRE!!. Best known

for his semi-abstracted depictions of history of the

African-American, such as Aspects of Negro Life:

From Slavery Through Reconstruction (1934) and

Into Bondage (1936), his work produced as a

younger artist for FIRE!! is markedly different. The

cover, at first glance, is a strikingly graphic repre-

sentation of a red sphinx with a chain attached to it

against a black background. Upon further inspection

it becomes clear that the black background in ques-

tion is actually the profile of an African man, and the

chain is in fact an earring.

The sphinx, with it’s implicit ties to Egyptian/

African culture and an advanced civilization, is found

inside the African man as is the title of the journal:

FIRE!!.

This was not the first nor the last time Douglas used

distinctly African or Egyptian imagery in his artwork;

in fact he, “often spoke of the significance of Egyp-

tian forms to his own art.” 17 By choosing an easily

recognizable symbol of Egyptian civilization, one

known by both whites and blacks, and by physically

positioning it within the same space as the African

figure he is making the bold connection between the

two; he, and FIRE!! by extension, is positing that the

great classical civilization of Egypt was very much

an African civilization. By doing so he situates

FIRE!! in an over-centuries long debate about the

relationship between Egypt and the African conti-

Fig. 6. Nugent, John the Baptist, 1930 ; Fig. 7. Nugent, Cover of Opportunity, 1926 ; Fig. 8. Nugent, Narcissus

nent, and the civilization’s importance in determining

African-American identity. Other artists of the era

also sought inspiration from Egypt and the other

great African civilization, Ethiopia, including Meta

Warrick Fuller’s Ethiopia Awakening (1910), Lois

Mailou Jones’ The Ascent of Ethiopia (1934), and

the stage production of DuBois’ Star of Ethiopia

(1913). This is to say that “by the time the Douglas

image appears on the cover of FIRE!! Black intellec-

tuals had devoted a century of energy, time, and ink

to arguing that Egypt was an African, Black African

civilization.” 18 The journal, then, however incendi-

ary and revolutionary its content might have been, is

still very much in dialogue with many of the standard

themes of the Harlem Renaissance.

Douglas’ other contribution to FIRE!! comes

in the form of three simple line drawings, each de-

picting a different African-American type. The first is

of a preacher, the second an artist, and the third and

final a waitress. These are particularly different from

the work that most would associated with Douglas’

career; they are essentially caricatures, drawn with

fluid lines and an eye for both verisimilitude and the

grotesque. Aside from their stylistic differences with

Douglas’ more abstracted murals (for which he was

most famous), his selection of subject matter here is

important. Focusing on everyday, ordinary African-

Americans, as opposed to the physicians, intellectu-

als, and businessmen of the talented tenth, is itself a

highly-charged political statement for the time pe-

riod. In Douglas’ rendering they are messy and even

ugly, proof of the lack of fear this younger generation

of the Harlem Renaissance had in delving into the

lives of the emergent black working class and crimi-

nal and sexual underworld, a subject the old guard

considered off-limits and potentially detrimental to

the progress of the New Negro.

If the publication of FIRE!! shocked main-

stream leaders of the Harlem Renaissance and

sparked a new wave of younger visionaries, the

works created independently by some of its contribu-

tors, particularly Richard Bruce Nugent, embraced

homoerotic themes in ways that provoked and dis-

turbed to an even greater degree. Both a writer and

an artist, Nugent was openly gay, and his sexuality

was one of the foremost influences on his work. For

example, in his series of Bible stories, he conflates

homosexuality with a wide array of Christian stories

and characters and the accompanying drawings,

including an extremely homoerotic depiction of Je-

sus and Judas as potential lovers (see Fig. 5) His

pieces were designed to confront and “directly chal-

lenge both homophobia and shallow piety.” 20 This

content would be extremely controversial today, let

alone back in the twenties. His Salome series (see

Fig. 6) also drew connections between transgressive

sexuality and biblical themes, and his figures

“present sexuality as performance, as artifice - as

drag.” 21

Nugent’s homosexuality was also apparent in

his contributions to more mainstream Harlem publi-

cations, including his March 1926 cover for the jour-

nal Opportunity (see Fig. 7). The palm tree on the

left is actually a large phallus, a tongue-in-cheek

joke played on the New Negro readers that Opportu-

nity generally reached, and the young man bears

more than a passing resemblance to the drag

queens, who were beginning to gain popularity22.

One of Nugent’s favorite subjects to depict was that

Fig 9. Nugent, Mr. Brooklyn

of dance, which he used to “express primitive vitality

and freedom from sexual inhibition” 23 the breaking

away from Victorian black middle-class ideals of

propriety and rigidity. His dancers were almost al-

ways nude or barely-clothed, and their elegant mo-

tion and contorted bodies imply a level sensuous-

ness and provocation that DuBois would have likely

found distasteful. His drawing of Narcissus (see Fig.

8), a mythological subject prominent in classical art

and literature, is a further example of the influence

of homosexuality on his work; the figure stands with

his back to the viewer fully nude, with the emphasis

on the sensuality and body of the figure itself rather

than the mythological story of Narcissus. Another

undated work, titled Mr. Brooklyn (see Fig. 9), oper-

ates as an abstracted celebration and glorification of

the black male with limbs, body parts, and faces

morphing and changing into one another in an orgy

of skin.

If Nugent “skillfully attacked prevailing sex-

ual, religious, and racial norms simply by celebrating

the joyous potential of transgressive sexuality,” 24

his contemporary (and supposed one-time lover)

Richmond Barthe was far less confrontational.

Barthe was extremely well-known for his bronze

sculptures of the nude male form, and his subjects

ranged from dancers or athletes, to mythological

figures or ordinary workers. Regardless of the sub-

ject, though, each of Barthe’s sculptures, with their

emphasis on the male form, musculature, and sen-

suality, can be read through a homoerotic and ho-

mosexual lens. In works like The Feral Benga

(1935) (see Fig. 10) he deconstructs the notion of

the sexually aggressive black male, transforming the

figure from a warrior brandishing a long sword into

an elegant, sensual dancer whose implied move-

ments read not as violent and war-like but as soft

and even slightly feminine. Similarly his sculpture

Boy With Flute (1940) (see Fig. 11) unashamedly

depicts the nude male form with an eye to body

composition and musculature, this time portraying a

subject holding a clearly phallic object. Stevedore

(1937) (see Fig. 12), though not a fully nude compo-

sition, continues Barthe’s fascination with the male

form this time adapted to portray a lower-class dock

worker. By choosing depict an “ordinary” subject,

Barthe also situates himself comfortably within the

narrative of the Cabaret School and it’s members

who decided to focus on the lives of everyday Afri-

can-Americans, both good and bad. Though

Barthe’s work is more subtly homoerotic than Nu-

gent’s, the fact that he received a notable amount of

press and acclaim despite being an openly gay artist

is particularly noteworthy, again highlighting the de-

gree of acceptance and even fascination with art

and literature that existed outside the realm of nor-

mative sexual mores.

Carl Van Vechten, perhaps the most publicly

Fig 10. Richmond Barthe, Feral Benga, 1935

gay figure of the Harlem Renaissance, pro-

vides another interesting example of the role that

homosexuals and homosexuality played in the

movement. Though white, and as such often viewed

with suspicion by many black artists and social lead-

ers of Harlem, Van Vechten played an extremely

important role in the promotion and exportation of

black art and artists from Harlem to white society.

Noted as both a writer and an artist, it is his photo-

graphs of Harlem celebrities that are of particular

interest. Many of his subjects were gay and lesbian

men and women, and many others were heterosexu-

als who operated within the same social sphere

marked by sexual transgression and indulgence.

Perhaps one of Van Vechten’s most famous portraits

is that of Bessie Smith, the famed bisexual blues

singer who frequently sang songs that touched on

the homosexual undercurrent of the world of Harlem:

“There’s two things that got me puzzled, there’s two

things I don’t understand... that’s a mannish-acting

woman and a lisping, swishing womanish-acting

man’” she sings in “Foolish Man Blues.” 25 He also

photographed Richard Bruce Nugent in 1936 (see

Fig. 13). This portrait illustrates the dynamic be-

tween the many gay artists and authors of the Har-

lem Renaissance; they largely all traveled in the

same circles, went to the same parties, and knew

the same people. As a result sexual liaisons be-

tween them were frequent.

The bust next to Nugent is also significant,

for it is of Antinous, a suspected lover of the Roman

emperor Hadrian. References to the subject and art-

ist’s own sexuality are explicitly stated in this photo-

graph, without shame, context, or fear. Furthermore

Van Vechten is composing a meta-commentary on

his own relationship to Nugent; by propositioning

Nugent, Van Vechten places himself in the role of

the older, more experienced Hadrian to Nugent’s

youthful and vivacious Antinous.

If the Harlem Renaissance did not have an

explicit gay community in the modern sense, it’s

seemingly ‘anything goes’ approach to sexuality pro-

vided an atmosphere in which a homosexual world

could emerge and bloom. Public spaces like caba-

rets and speakeasies allowed for both hetero- and

homosexual experimentation, and more private af-

fairs like rent parties and buffet flats were important

in the development of homosocial networks. Homo-

sexuality, then, though not necessarily encouraged

by the majority of Harlem society, was at least an

obvious and well-known part of life. Its influence is

evident in the songs, art, and literature of the time,

as many leading figures of the Harlem Renaissance

employed their homosexuality in their works. These

artists forged a new black identity, largely separate

from and contradictory to DuBois’ idealized vision of

black progress; they were not afraid to show the ugly

humanity of black life. These artistic individuals

strived to depict a more fully realized version of Har-

lem society, and homosexuality and sexual trans-

gression was oftentimes the main tool used to

achieve this end. º

Fig. 11. Richmond Barthe, Boy With Flute, 1940

Endnotes

1—2; 7. A.B. Christa Schwarz. 9, 3, 11.

3; 13—14. Shane Vogel. 3, 19.

4 - 6; 8 –11; 25. Eric Garber.

12.—taken out for published essay.

15—18. Farah Jasmine Griffin. 46, 50, 52.

19—taken out for published essay.

20—24; 26 Thomas H. Wirth. 45, 59-60, 60, 57, 59, 226.

Bibliography

Garber, Eric. “A Spectacle in Color: The Lesbian and Gay Subculture of Jazz Age Harlem.” Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian

Past, vol. 1. eds. Martin Bauml Duberman, Martha Vicinus and George Chauncey Jr. New York: NAL Books, 1989. accessed May 1 2012 http://

xroads.virginia.edu/~ug97/blues/garber.html.

Griffin, Farah Jasmine. “On Time, In Time, Through Time: Aaron Douglas, Fire!! and the Writers of the Harlem Renaissance.” American Studies

49 (2008): 45-53, accessed May 2 2012 https://journals.ku.edu/index.php/amerstud/article/viewFile/3942/3756.

Schwarz, A.B. Christa. Gay Voices of the Harlem Renaissance. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2003.

Vogel, Shane. The Scene of Harlem Cabaret: Race, Sexuality, Performance. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009.

Wirth, Thomas H., ed. Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance: Selections from the Work of Richard Bruce Nugent. Durham, NC: Duke University

Press, 2002.

Fig. 12. Richmond Barthe, Stevedore, 1937 Fig. 13. Carl Van Vechten, Richard Bruce Nugent, 1936

The Body & Power of Christ:

Shifting Perspectives and

Ideas in Rembrandt's Lazarus

Matthew Chiarello

Introductory Remarks

Summoned by the commanding call of

Christ, the reanimated figure of Lazarus arises from

his reopened tomb and rejoins the realm of the liv-

ing. This miraculous scene of dominion over death

– originally articulated in the Gospel of John as the

crowning sign of Christ’s spiritual mission – mani-

fests itself in the early works of Rembrandt van

Rijn1. Not only was the miracle featured as the sub-

ject of a 1630 painting entitled The Raising of Laza-

rus, but it also appears in several etchings dated

from relatively early in the artist’s career. Of the for-

mer, the artist appears to highlight the figure of

Christ and the dynamic force of his presence. Of

the latter, however, particularly in an etched image

created in 1632, Rembrandt appears to shift the fo-

cus of the narrative away from the gravitas of Christ

and towards the power of the miracle itself.

The Figure of Christ

As the purple sleeve of Christ’s cloak falls

back from his upraised palm and the ghostly figure

of a once-dead man lurches upward from the tomb,

the viewer of Rembrandt’s 1630 Lazarus is con-

fronted by an imposing scene of spiritual might

(Figure A). Within the bounds of the vertically ori-

ented rectangular canvas, the artist presents the

dominating figure of Christ placed slightly left of cen-

ter with the depictions of Lazarus’ sisters, Martha

and Mary, crowded to his right. These two relatives,

along with several other slightly obscured figures,

appear to be caught in a moment of awe and visible

disbelief as they witness the lifting of Lazarus from

his tomb. As for the saved man himself, Lazarus

drifts upward from the perpendicular, arching away

from his four day repose in death at the bottom right

of the image. The remainder of the painting is

doused primarily in darkness, evoking the depths of

a final reobeys the call of Christ, so too is the paint-

ing’s audience commanded by the hand of the artist

to consider the overwhelming power of the piece’s

central figure. This forceful presentation of Christ,

which stands as an integral aspect of this particular

work, is achieved both through compositional ar-

rangement and by means of rendering a scene of

fluid action.

In terms of the former element, Rembrandt

shows Christ commanding a position of authority.

As abovementioned, he stands in a domineering

pose, eyes steadfast, hand aloft, and mouth agape.

His raised right arm and outward facing palm cast in

glancing light and situated at the highest point of the

work draw the viewer’s gaze immediately to Christ

and to the power he wielded. This sense of spiritual

might is compounded by the sheer size of the figure,

which dominates the center-left of the canvas.

Christ’s relative size persists despite the fact that he

hovers in the middle ground of the image and is situ-

ated behind the figures of Martha, Mary, Lazarus,

and two hunched male acolytes. In addition to the

Figure A: The Raising of Lazarus Rembrandt van Rijn1630

emphasis placed on figural arrangements, Rem-

brandt creates a space, which allows for the presen-

tation of the biblical narrative in a highly dynamic

fashion. Having recently departed from the tutelage

of Peter Lastman in 1625, Rembrandt employs a

style that could be typified as his “early period,” from

roughly 1620 into the 1630s2. The sweeping ges-

ture of Christ, the momentum of Mary as she leans

forward, and the drifting upward of Lazarus all

speak to aspects of narrative motion characteristic

of Rembrandt’s early work3. This dynamism is sig-

nificant in this particular painting as it appears to be

instigated by Christ’s actions. That is to say that

had Christ not commanded Lazarus in this instant,

the image would be static; all of the motion hinges

on the words of Jesus. Thus, through his composi-

tion and his narrative dynamics, Rembrandt pre-

sents his audience with a potent rendering of both

the gravity of Jesus’ presence as well as the power

intrinsic to Christ’s figure.

The Power of Christ

Two years after completing the above dis-

cussed painting, Rembrandt revisits the New Testa-

ment healing scene by way of a moderately sized

(36.8 x 25.5 cm) etching (Figure B). Here again, the

looming figure of Jesus is placed to the left of cen-

ter, with a crowd of rapt followers and the swooning

siblings of Lazarus surrounding the open stone sar-

cophagus. Yet, with his back now turned towards

the viewer’s gaze and with his eyes presumably

locked onto the body of Lazarus, this etched Christ

occupies a wholly different space in this rendering

than he does in the 1630 image. Here, the viewer’s

position as originally established in the earlier ver-

sion – facing Christ and Lazarus – has been sup-

planted by a group of surprised onlookers. And

while these spectators are granted a frontal view of

the scene, the viewer of the 1632 etching is rele-

gated to a position nearly behind Christ. This ar-

rangement not only departs from the pictorial tradi-

tion as captured in a contemporaneous painting of

the subject by Jan Lievens, but also prefigures a

unique distortion of perspective employed in such

works as Antonio Ciseri’s Ecce Homo (Figures C &

E)4. Within this rotated view, rather than lock eyes

with the imposing central figure in the original work,

the viewer is forced to follow Christ’s obscured and

diverted gaze away from his body and towards the

realization of his miracle. In fact, of the twelve dis-

cernible figures in the image (including Jesus but

discounting Lazarus) eleven of them appear to be

marveling at the reanimated corpse and not at the

agent responsible. This collective stare, then, ac-

tively redirects the gaze of the viewer away from

Christ and towards the miraculous anchor of the im-

age embodied in the form of Lazarus.

Such a transition away from the figure of Je-

sus and towards the miracle itself is equally evinced

by the light and shadow that Rembrandt employs in

this etching. While the light in the 1630 work trick-

les into the tomb from behind the figures at the

viewer’s left and barely glints off portions of Christ

and Lazarus, in the etching it emanates brightly

from the center. This light source appears to be

Figure B:

The Raising of Lazarus, Rembrandt van Rijn1632

situated in the space between Christ and Lazarus,

bathing the resurrected man, his savior, and Christ’s

followers in a radiant glow and conversely throwing

the surrounding area behind these figures into inky

crosshatched darkness. This bright patch is per-

haps the clearest indication of Rembrandt’s intended

subject matter. Rather than highlight Christ – as it

does in the 1630 work – the light here places em-

phasis on the miracle, perhaps even being created

as a byproduct of the act itself. This illumination -

coupled with the altered arrangement and perspec-

tive – speaks to a shift in overall content from Christ

to his ministry.

Concluding Remarks

Although the works above discussed are

united under the same narrative mantel, they di-

verge heavily in terms of meaning and conveyance

of message. While the 1630 painting focuses on the

power of Christ, the 1632 image emphasizes the

nature of the miracle itself. While this shift might

appear slight, its ramifications are of significance,

especially in light of Rembrandt’s later work on the

subject in 1642 (Figure E). In this work, completed

nearly a decade after the first etching, Rembrandt

combines the methods examined above in that he

provides the viewer with a visible Christ, ancillary

figures beholding the miracle, and a light source

similar to that found in the 1632 etching. This syn-

thesis speaks to an evolution of both style and moti-

vation during the early portion of Rembrandt’s ca-

reer and can be seen in large part in the works

above.

Endnotes

1John. Bible Gateway. Web. <http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+11:1&version=NIV>.

2 Straten, Roelof Van., Harmenszoon Van Rijn Rembrandt, Jan Lievens, and Ingrid W. L. Moerman. Young Rembrandt: the Leiden

Years, 1606-1632. Leiden, Netherlands: Foleor, 2005. Print.

3 Westermann, Mariët, and Harmenszoon Van Rijn Rembrandt. Rembrandt. London: Phaidon, 2000. Print.

4 The latter, despite the fact that it was composed nearly 200 years after Rembrandt’s death, could certainly claim this Lazarus of

1632 as among its direct antecedents.

5 Silver, Larry & Perlove, Shelley. "Rembrandt's Jesus." Rembrandt and the Face of Jesus. 74-107. Print.

Figure E

Rembrandt Harmensz. Van Rijn, The Raising of Lazarus: Small

Plate, c. 1642. Engraving and etching on paper; plate 5 7/8 x

4 1/2 inches; sheet 14 5/8 x 10 1/6 inches. Museum of Fine

Arts, Boston. (Cat. 23A)

Figure C (top):

Antonio Ciseri’s Ecce Homo, 1642 Oil on Cavas

Figure D (bottom):

Jan Lievens, The Raising of Lazarus, 1631. Oil on Canvas; Brigh-

ton Museum and Art Gallery

The potential for symbolic depth and intellec-

tual value in a seemingly simple medieval peddler

figure wandering through the Dutch countryside ex-

pands far-beyond what viewers may initially think.

Bosch’s peddler is a true man of mystery, one who

serves as a metaphor for the entire spectrum of mo-

rality - ranging from the Prodigal Son to the lowliest

of sinners and everything in between. However,

Bosch does not necessarily include the peddler in

his artwork simply as a symbolic or metaphorical

figure. In conjunction with his meticulously detailed

surrounding landscapes, the peddler is a motif that

takes on a whole new level of significance when it is

taken as a springboard for discussion, contempla-

tion, and meditation of the struggles that lie at the

core of our human existence. Ambiguity aside, the

two most frequently compared and important depic-

tions of traveling peddlers by Bosch are found in the

Rotterdam tondo and exterior wings of The Hay-

wain. These two best-known and most frequently

studied surviving depictions of the traveling peddler

attributed to Bosch serve as a window into the 16th

century intellectual response to the ongoing condi-

tions of uncertainty, chaos, and temptations.

While Bosch’s exact intent in creating each

of his peddler panels will never be known, theories

abound. The peddler figures represented in Bosch’s

Rotterdam tondo and Haywain Tryptch are figures

that have long been topics of discussion by their

viewers, resulting in centuries of intellectual dis-

course linking elements of the peddler to topics of

16th century political development and social situa-

tions. Such discussions have extended as far as

deep contemplations involving not only the world in

which we live, but also heaven and hell and of our

roles and duties as co-inhabitants not only to each

other but also to a greater being/God. Through the

slightest details Bosch manages to convey sugges-

tions of how we ought to live our lives and navigate

the unavoidable obstacles every man is confronted

with.

The Rotterdam tondo peddler is thought to

have originally been the exterior portion of an altar-

piece that opened by separating the image of the

traveling peddler down the middle. Inside were other

famous pieces such as Bosch’s Ship of Fools/

Allegory of Intemperance (right interior panel),

Death of the Miser (left interior panel), as well as

another lost work (Dickson 74). The second peddler

depiction mentioned was originally found on the ex-

terior of Bosch’s Haywain triptych and is, at first

glance, seemingly similar to the Rotterdam tondo

but upon closer examination, exhibits distinct differ-

ences that make the two peddler representations

interesting contrasts. The number of interpretations,

theories, and metaphors surrounding these two ped-

dler images are varied and numerous. But after ex-

ploring a wide array of legitimate possibilities ex-

plaining Bosch’s intent, I’ve come to the conclusion

that despite the overwhelming similarities between

the two images, the different landscapes, slightly

altered postures and facial expressions, as well as

other detail-oriented differences point to the Rotter-

dam landloper and the Haywain wayfarer as oppo-

sites; the former represents the weak sinner on the

verge of corruption, unable to resist worldly tempta-

tion and the latter represents the man who has re-

mained strong and will consequently be saved.

The characterization of Bosch’s Rot-terdam tondo peddler as a sinner heading down a path in life that leads to a dead end is, in my opin-ion, Bosch’s most likely intended interpretation. It makes sense to have a character with whom the audience of the time could identify as a subtle, more tangible warning before introducing the more ridicu-lous and exaggerexaggerated interior images of the altarpiece which reflect life governed purely by in-

Bosch’s Ambiguous Traveler: A Springboard for Personal Interpretation and Contemplation

by Lucy Macon

dulgence and acceptance of vices such as folly and

gluttony. The peddler on the outside is one who has

clearly strayed and is at a pivotal turning point in his

life journey where he can chose to resist the evils of

the world or continue living a life of sin and excess.

When the previously adjoined illustrations are re-

vealed, Bosch suggests the landloper has made the

easier choice and thus fallen victim to the evils of

the world depicted in the interior works. Art histori-

ans who favor this interpretation include Ludwig von

Baldass who in 1943 suggested that at the time

Bosch depicts the traveler he has yet to give in and

is instead in the process of deciding whether or not

to resist the evils by which he is surrounded. Bal-

dass argues that the peddler is not an interpretation

of a reformed prodigal son back on the path of the

righteous after coming from the brothel because the

dog is barking at him and thus unfamiliar with our

traveler. The pigs, which are interpreted by support-

ers of the prodigal son analysis as those to which

the prodigal son from the bible tended, Baldass pro-

poses to instead be connected to “the moral turpi-

tude and depravity of the brothel” (de Bruyn 133).

Building on the growing amount of evidence that the

peddler in the Rotterdam tondo is someone who is

distracted by and about to give into temptations

rather than someone who has already given in, is

Dirk Bax’s analysis of the woman in the window.

Judging by her curious facial expression, she is

looking at the peddler as more of an anonymous

passer-by rather than a familiar departing client (de

Bruyn 133). More specific details foreshadowing the

choice that the landloper is about to make include

the owl perched in the branches above him which is

interpreted as “a symbol of evil and serves to rein-

force other negative elements of the

scene” (Dickson 95). Another detail pointed out by

Andrew Pigler is the large size of the peddler’s bur-

den, which is “inconsistent with a down-and-out son

returning to his father’s house” (de Bruyn 133). Ulti-

mately, what I consider to be the most problematic

obstacle in the interpretation of the Rotterdam tondo

landloper as a prodigal son is the closed gate, which

blatantly suggests that the door to salvation will not

open easily (or at all) for our traveler.

In addition to the argument that the

Rotterdam tondo figure represents a fallen man on a

path without hope, there are also foundationally

sounds theories supporting the opposite conclusion,

that this peddler is actually a Prodigal Son. The first

person to attribute the Rotterdam tondo to Bosch,

Gustav Glück, “took the principle character to be the

prodigal son at the moment of repentance” (de

Bruyn 133). The criteria upon which Glück arrives at

this conclusion are his interpretation of the dilapi-

dated building and the pigs. He views the former as

a disreputable tavern representative of the indulgent

life led by the prodigal son and the latter as the pigs

to whom he had tended before returning home and

repenting. The cow on the right behind the closed

gate is, according to Glück, the fatted calf that would

be killed upon the return of the prodigal son. To this

prodigal son interpretation of the Rotterdam tondo,

art historians Charles de Tolnay and Marcel Brion

have added the idea that the peddler’s hair is grey

as a result of the hardship he has faced and the ex-

cessive nature of his lifestyle (de Bruyn 133). The

grey hair is a perfect example of one of the elements

that contributes to the ambiguity of the Rotterdam

tondo. Different accredited art historians have used

The Peddler, or The Prodigal Son

By: Hieronymous Bosch

1495, 71 x 70.6cm, Museum Boymans-Beuningen, Rotter-

dam (rectangular panel cut into tondo).

Dendrochronlogical Date: 1486 same tree

Children of Saturn, Florentine, 15th century engraving

the peddler’s hair for the argument sup-

porting and opposing his characterization as a prodi-

gal son figure. Ludwig von Baldass, previously men-

tioned as one of the art historians arguing that

against the prodigal son interpretation of the Rotter-

dam tondo, uses the grey hair as a point in his ar-

gument as well claiming that a prodigal son would

not be old enough to have grey hair.

One of the most discussed details of the

Rotterdam tondo especially when compared to the

exterior of the Haywain is the relationship between

the peddler and the dog. The dogs in both paintings

wear spiked collars, which establish a link between

them and the devil. Based on Netherland-ish histori-

cal context, we can conclude that the spiked collars

were depicted to “indicate that these were danger-

ous vicious dogs” which would explain their aggres-

sive behavior (de Bruyn 137). Some art historians

have even gone as far as to call the dog in both

paintings an allegorical representation of the devil.

The dog’s fur is of a reddish color, which had ex-

tremely negative social connotations during the mid-

dle ages and was associated with the devil.

Another interesting topic to explore when

considering the meaning of these two traveling ped-

dlers is the reoccurrence of elements related to the

astronomical image of Saturn. As a man interested

in alchemy and other prevalent sciences of the time,

Bosch would have been familiar with popular theo-

ries, including those relating to the planets and the

four bodily humors. Art historians Lotte Brand Philip

and Andrew Pigler are among those who have sug-

gested the presence of details referring to humoral

and astrological elements. Astrologically, the over-

whelming majority of evidence relates the two ped-

dlers to Saturn. At the time, Saturn was thought to

be the furthest planet from the Earth and the slowest

of all in its journey around Earth. It was also linked

to the melancholic temperament and the bodily hu-

mor of black bile (excrement). Historically, in works

that Bosch would have been exposed to by this

point, such as the popular Children of the Planet Se-

ries, a Florentine engraving dating to around 1460,

Saturn’s offspring are depicted as decrepit, anti-

social, workers of the Earth including as farmers,

gravediggers, and hermits (Dickson 96). The color

scheme, especially of the Rotterdam tondo, can be

connected to Saturn because of its “particularly

earthen” composure of “delicate tones of brown,

ochre, and grey” with even the sky a neutral buff

shade (Dickson 96). The use of the Saturn/black bile

imagery fits well with the idea that Bosch is painting

a material world leading only to Earthly death. The

Insets: Rotterdam Tondo, Hieronymous Bosch, 1487-

1516, oil on panel

Saturn related imagery especially supports the con-

clusion that I find most likely: the Rotterdam tondo

peddler is one who is leaning towards/has already

made the choice to give in to temptations. He is crip-

pled like the children of Saturn and thus has chosen

to follow a similar path.

The display/illustration of voluntary poverty

is also a possible interpretation, especially in the

case of the Haywain wayfarer, that I find highly likely

based on the history of Hertogenbosch, the town

from which Bosch came. Voluntary poverty is ex-

actly what the name implies- the purposeful practice

of self-denial and discipline in an attempt to emulate

Christ. Those who willingly subject themselves to

voluntary poverty in an attempt to renounce the ma-

terial goods with which the world tempts us are often

referred to as the faithful good. The concept of vol-

untary poverty is founded on the premise that “the

contemplative life of the saints and the meditation on

Christ’s sacrifice are the sole means of escaping the

evil that pervades every aspect of life” (ArtBook,

Bosch 126). This literal interpretation of the bible

was practiced by the Franciscan order of monks,

who had a large presence in Hertogenbosch. The

Franciscans “encouraged a simple life of poverty

and detachment from the material world- purpose-

fully poor, they took literally their founders belief that

the things of the world belong to no one and are

simply on loan from the Almighty” (Dickson 100).

Evidence that the peddler on the exterior Haywain

wings is one of the faithful good (sometimes referred

to as fideles boni) is that all though this landloper is

clearly poor, he doesn’t display the negative, stigma-

tizing characteristics associated with poverty that the

Rotterdam Tondo wayfarer exhibits (Dickson 99).

There were two types of poverty recognized by

Christians in the pre-industrial era: the man who is

poor because of low social position and bad luck

and the man who is poor because he has chosen

the path of Christ. This suggests The that the Hay-

wain wayfarer can be included in the second group

while the Rotterdam tondo landloper is part of the

first.

The arguments for and against the Rotter-

dam tondo peddler as a prodigal son each have logi-

cal, legitimate points. The question of whether the

Rotterdam tondo figure is the prodigal son or not

has created a definitive divide amongst art histori-

ans. Most use the Haywain wayfarer as a compari-

son because of the obvious similarities between the

two. Both figures are impoverished, lone travelers

glancing behind at a dog with a spiked collar. The

differences are in each man’s facial expression and

his posture, the dog’s behavior, and the surrounding

landscape. The Rotterdam tondo landloper pos-

sesses an expression of reluctance and uncertainty,

hinting that he is on the verge of giving into tempta-

tion. However the Haywain wayfarer’s expression is

one of fear and trepidation as he tries to maintain his

determined and strong will. In comparing the two

wayfarers those art historians who support the Rot-

terdam Tondo as a representation of the prodigal

son take a different side when interpreting the

closed wings of the Haywain. Increasingly however

the general consensus is that Bosch would not have

painted two themes as similar as the Haywain exte-

rior and the Rotterdam landloper while having one

represent the prodigal son and the other not. This

line of reasoning led to a reevaluation and more

general reclassification of the peddler not as the

prodigal son, but instead as an “allegorical reference

to man on his journey through life” for which the

term homo viator (Latin for travelling man) has been

coined (de Bruyn134).

The idea of the homo viator leaves more

room for individual interpretation of the man-in-

question’s fate. Some believe him to be a helplessly

sinful figure surrounded by a world filled with vice,

while others see him as a righteous pilgrim resisting

the evil that surrounds him. Whatever he is, there is

most definitely “an indissoluble alliance of figure and

landscape: nature reflects the lonely wander’s nos-

talgia, which, in turn, is a reflection of the melan-

choly lot of all mankind” (Delevoy 39). The isolation

of the traveler and the landscape ties back to the

idea of the homo viator as a man who is “exiled

within himself” (Delevoy 39) while on “a pilgrimage

through sin” (ArtBook, Bosch 126). The key empha-

sis of his situation is the choice that he faces and

the fact that he indeed possesses the option to de-

termine the rest of his journey.

I prefer to take elements of each of these

interpretations and combine them to form my own

patchwork meaning of Bosch’s peddler. Personally, I

am in favor of the theory that Bosch has repeated

the same image twice, making small changes in de-

tail, with the intention of having them represent two

opposite ways of living. I believe he is using the jour-

neying peddler motif to illustrate the quintessential

struggle man faces in his journey through life against

the temptations of the material world to which so

many fall victim, as illustrated by the works that were

intended to accompany both wayfarer pieces. The

Haywain peddler and the Rotterdam peddler were

created to serve as openings/introductory pieces to

other illustrations. In each instance the interior/

associated paintings depict (though in different

forms/contexts) the fall of the masses and the re-

sults of living an impure, unrestrained life. It makes

sense to me that as an artist Bosch would precede

each of these scenes of worldly chaos with a rein-

forcement of the fact that the folly, gluttony, and

chaos shown inside is the result of an individual

choice that each man makes on his own at one point

on his journey through life. These opening images

depict the peddler at a time where he has paused to

think about how to proceed in relation to his sur-

roundings. In a sense Bosch uses this scene to

communicate the message that “when the wings are

shut on this world of selfish greed and perversity,

there appears the figure of a man who has managed

to escape from it” (Delevoy 38). As we go through

our lives we are provided with the opportunity to fol-

low Christ’s example and that is up to us whether we

take the difficult, lonely road that leads to salvation

or settle for what’s easiest.

The complexity of the peddler’s role in Bosch’s art-

work leads scholars to view him as an eternally am-

biguous figure that has carefully guarded his identity,

meaning, and purpose. Bosch’s peddler is a playful

figure that denies the world’s best scholars and spe-

cialists the satisfaction of claiming a definite and

specific interpretation. He is elusive of a singular de-

finitive reading and considered ambiguous by many

accredited art historians. His refusal to reveal his

purpose and thus be pigeonholed into a certain in-

terpretation forces the viewer to engage in personal

meditation and intellectual discussion in order to

form a well-rounded understanding of Bosch’s mes-

sage.

Haywain Triptych, Hieronymous Bosch,1510, oil on canvas

ART & ART HISTORY DEPARTMENT

Alan Braddock Ph.D., Art History, University of Delaware, 2002

M.L.S., Library Science, University of Maryland,

College Park, 1995

M.A., History of Art, Johns Hopkins University, 1988

B.A., Grinnell College, Art and Art History, 1984

Published books:

Thomas Eakins and the Cultures of Modernity

A Keener Perception: Ecocritical Studies in American

Art History, co-edited with Christoph Irmscher

The Department of Art &

Art History at W&M is

great. Superb students,

wonderful faculty col-

leagues, and a real sense

of community.

One meaning [of “light”] concerns the idea of

“enlightenment” (with and without a capital “E”),

involving a belief in the power of observation to

reveal truths about the world we inhabit… For

various reasons… postmodernism taught us to be

skeptical about “enlightenment” and “truth” as

universalizing ideals, but lately a number of people

in my field have become intrigued by the power of

observation to inform us about things in our

world. Those things will always be somewhat elu-

sive—their “truth” always receding somewhat

from the light into darkness—but we have a re-

sponsibility, I think, to see and imagine them as

best we can. Art still has an important role to play

in that.

New Professor

PhD, Art History, University of California, Los

Angeles, 2009

MA, Art History, Southern Methodist Univer-

sity, Dallas, TX, 2003

MA, Medieval Studies, Central European

University, Budapest, Hungary, 1999

BA, History and Theory of Art, University of

the Arts, Bucharest, Romania, 1998

Cristina Stancioiu

New Professor

The Art History Department provides

a wonderful, collegial, and dynamic

milieu in which to teach and carry out

research. I am constantly inspired by

my colleagues’ research agendas, and

the Department’s engagement with

students’ interests and learning… I

hope to inspire my students to travel

and explore our world, to reassess fa-

miliar cultures, and to learn about

those that seem distant and foreign. I

feel that I can do that here.

Selected Publications:

“On the Painted Ancestry of Domenikos

Theotokopoulos’ Sacred Landscape of

Mount Sinai and the Monastery of St.

Catherine”

“I ever loved thee, lady mine and yet my

love increases: Rhodian Portrait Ceramics

and Cultural Dialogue in the Mediterra-

nean”

“Not in the excellent ancient Greek style:

Beauty and Aesthetics in Late Byzantium”

Light is intrinsic to Medieval art and architecture. In

Byzantium, light was carefully considered and inte-

grated in the very structure of buildings, but also in

their decoration, through the selection of mosaic as a

preferred medium… In the Medieval West, the Gothic

cathedral was built around light… Symbolic of divine

light, natural light is filtered through monumental

stained glass windows, creating a colorful jewel-like

effect inside the church, an image Medieval people

associated with the beauty and brightness of Heavenly

Jerusalem.

Jarrett Ley

College of William & Mary

Art & Art History

Graduation: May 2013

Pratt Institute, School of Architecture

Architecture Design

Rome Semester, 2012

Columbia University, GSAPP

Introduction to Architecture, 2011

[I am interested in]

the way that art his-

tory begins to inform

design.

When an architect designs a

structure or space, one of the

most critical elements is the

way that it engages with its

existing context, and in a con-

text, one of the most impor-

tant elements is that natural

light is operating within the

space… The first thing that we

do in architectural de-

sign...101 with Ed [Pease] is a

project about shadows… you

have to design… something

that in some way is playing

with light and shadow… your

architecture has to be rele-

vant and operating within its

existing conditions.

Art & Art History Major Art History Concentration 39 credits in Art and Art History (maximum of 48 credits) ART 211, 212 and ARTH 251, 252 Three credits in each of the following five fields: 1. Medieval (351, 352, 353) 2. Renaissance and Baroque (360, 362, 363, 364, 365, 366) 3. Modern (370, 371, 372, 375) 4. American (381, 383) 5. Non-Western (393, 394, 395) Methods in Art History (ARTH 480) & another 400-level Major Computing Proficiency & Major Writing Requirement

Art Concentration 39 credits in Art and Art History (maximum of 48 credits) ART 211, 212, 460, and ARTH 251, 252 Two-Dimensional Art: 20 credits including ART 309, ART 311 or ART 317, and ART 315 or ART 316 Three-Dimensional Art: 20 Art credits, 3-credits of either ART 319 or 320, and 3-credits in drawing: ART 309, 310, 311 or 317 Printmaking: 20 credits including ART 323 and ART 324 Six upper level (400) Art History course credits Senior Major reviews & ART 460 both semesters of senior year Major Computing Proficiency & Major Writing Requirement

Art or Art History Minor Art Minor: ART 211, 212 Five 300 or 400 level courses in Art. Art History Minor: ARTH 251, 252 Five 300 or 400 level courses in Art History Art & Art History Minor: ART 211, 212, ARTH 251, 252 Three 300 or 400 level courses in any combination of Art & Art History

Just for FUN

Photo by: Life Magazine

Botched restoration of the ‘ecco

homo’ fresco. From left, the

original version by Elías García

Martínez, a 19th-century painter;

a deteriorated version of the

fresco; the restored version by 81

-year-old Cecilia Giménez.

Thomas Pavitte created the most complex

connect the dots puzzle in history; it took

him nine hours to complete the puzzle fea-

turing 6,293 dots, to reveal the Mona Lisa.

Photo by: Skye Keene-Babcook