Bernini, Rape of Proserpina (1621-2)

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, a sculptor that's received so much acclaim, and rightly so. Honestly, I didn't and still don't know much about him, there was much reading to be had after I decided that this would be my next piece. I didn't even really know the name of this piece, but it's been burned in my mind ever since I first saw it.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Rape of Proserpina (1621-2)
Marble
295cm in height

Let's start with the story behind the sculpture. This is the tale of the Roman goddess Proserpina (daughter of Ceres, who is the goddess of grain and harvest) and her abduction by Pluto, the god of the underworld. The Greek equivalent is Persephone (daughter of Demeter) and Hades, although the tale is pretty much the same. In short, Pluto fell in love with Proserpina, and consequently abducted her to rule the underworld with him. The world became desolate, as Ceres (her mother) refused to let anything grow and starvation set in for the people. Finally a deal was made where she would stay with Pluto for three or six months (it differs from the sources I'm looking at) which corresponds with the seasons of the year.
We can see Pluto wearing a crown, symbolizing his reign in the underworld. Behind the couple is what appears to be a dog, but a clearer view shows that it's Cerberus, the guardian of the gates of the underworld. While Proserpina looks surprised and horrified, notice that the expression on Pluto's face has a slight smile to it, almost like it's a game. This plays into the power games of myths from this era, with things such as rape not being an uncommon theme.
Proserpina is the focus of this painting, she's thrusting forward while blocking Pluto, in addition to being raised. We follow the lines of her arms and body to Pluto's arms, making Pluto the second thing you see.
I love the fact that it's so abrupt, sudden, a moment that's been swiftly caught. Proserpina's twisting body and flailing arms, her flowing hair, Pluto's tension and balance as he struggles to hold onto his prey. I often feel this way with sculptures, the fact that sculptors can make such movement from such a still form.
But what makes this such a memorable sculpture? I'd like to say it's a combination of things, and I'm not playing down any of the other attributes of the sculpture, but there is definitely one sure thing that captures me. The marble turned flesh. It's the grip that Pluto has on Proserpina that just blows me away every time I look at it. The way Bernini has caused this cold, smooth marble to turn into warm and tangible flesh. The perfection in the imprints that Pluto's hands leave on Proserpina's body show a skill I can't even comprehend. It's so beautifully realistic, not anatomical technicality realistic, but emotionally grappling. It's a twisting and fleeing body, yet the realism in the figures blow me away.

It's a feature I see focused again and again in different reviews and blogs, it's a certain favourite of this piece. I love Bernini's work, and this is definitely held in my head as one of his top masterpieces.

Giotto, Kiss of Judas (1304-06)



It's been a while, my apologies. Been distracted with work and partying up now that exams have been over. Christmas and New Years has been a very busy period!

 Also, I was very tempted to write a blog post weeks ago (very early morning), but I had to fight the urge off. I had just come back from the Coldplay concert in Auckland and I didn't trust myself to fully write about art without letting these amazing feelings take over. And in order to talk fully about the concert and the emotions that were tumbling through me, it'd have to take a hell of a lot more delving into personal issues than I'm willing to deal with at the moment. I mean, just being there, having the music moving through me... Wow. It's like being on a high, and man did they play a show. How they do it, I have no idea, absolutely amazing and worth it. Smiling just thinking about it, music begins where words end. It's like a sense of unity and togetherness with everyone and a sense of individuality, personal emotions and moments. And no matter what anyone says, Coldplay has got to be one of the best bands I've ever come across, both in music, and in attitude and energy. I hope I get to see them play again some day. Amazing. 


Anyways, enough with that (even though I just want to keep going on about it, goddamn...) and onto Giotto. An Italian artist, often referred to as the Grandfather of the Renaissance, a part of the proto-Renaissance. Everyone gets wrapped up in Da Vinci and Botticelli and Raphael, and with good reason, but it's also important to look at what led up to them, and to me Giotto is a master in his own right.



Giotto, Kiss of Judas, 1304-06
Fresco
200 cm x 185 cm

This piece is part of the Scrovegni Chapel, as artists were often commissioned to paint entire cycles for personal family chapels. The cycles that Giotti painted in this chapel is the life of Christ and the life of the Virgin Mary. I remember when studying this chapel that we talked about a couple of the scenes, but I have to say that this one stood out particularly for me.


We have the scene where Judas is deceiving Jesus, pointing out for the guard which of them is Jesus in a seemingly subtle way, through a kiss.

 

"Judas, are you betraying the son of man with a kiss?" 

                                                          (Luke 22:47–48)

 

We see that Judas has lost the iconic halo, no longer to be considered divine. He's also interestingly wearing yellow robes, a colour most associated with cowardice. In the left of the painting is Peter in blue and red robes, attacking Malthus (a servant of the high priest) in a splash of violence. We have the defense on the left, with an imposing offense in the right. The central part, of course, is the kiss between Judas and Jesus which are emphasized by the lines created by the torches above their heads, and the lines of the drapery leading up to their faces.

Very much in class we were focused on the composition and arrangement Giotto undertook, as it created a more three dimensional space. The use of people halfway in the frame, or the man being pulled on the left shows that there is a world outside of the border. Layers of people that are being blocked by the ones in front (as opposed to tilting the space, as we were easily told to compare to Duccio di Buoninsegna who was considered more Byzantine), meaning there is space not only in the lateral plane, but giving depth into the painting.

The other thing that was always pointed out to us was the bulkiness of his figures. There's more of a sense of weight and life to the figures, easier to believe that they live in a world like our own instead of a ethereal one. The drapery folds around the curves of a body, not wisping around a delicate frame.

However incredible and innovative these things are, this is not what I love most about this painting. What first captured me, and still does to this day, is the contrast between calm and anarchy. We can hear the chaos and abruptness of the guards arrival in the scene. There's distinct splashes of fire, violence and confusion in the scene, not sure who's friendly or foe at first glance. It's a scene destined to be ruled by conflict. But then we have Jesus and Judas in the center. Amid all this chaos, this commotion, is this moment of stillness, quiet, intimacy. Not intimacy in sense of a romantic moment, but in the emotional betrayal between two men bound by something deeper than friendship. The way that Judas' cloak drapes around Jesus creates this barrier between them and the confusion around them, creates a special space for them. It's just this perfect bubble in the middle of chaos, and it's one of the most beautifully subtle spatial boundaries I've seen. This emotional pain and betrayal amid all the physical chaos, it's so perfectly done.

This is one of the pieces that sold me on Giotto, not only did he get the technical innovations right, there's this emotional connection to it too. It's like we can relate to the fact of a moment where a bombshell is dropped on you, and the entire world just fades away until it's just you in a quiet space of realization.

I feel a sort of awe looking at it, it's a 700 year old piece by a proto-renaissance painter with a completely religious subject, yet it's still in some way relatable. You just need to stop and actually look, instead of glossing over the subject, to really see what the painting means to you.