I personally love Amor Vincit Omnia

Specially during Renaissance era, while the gospels do not explicitly describe how they were attached to their crosses, that's usually how they are both depicted. Was it to emphasize Jesus' suffering?

Nearly 500 years after she painted a portrait of herself at an easel and signed her name at the top, establishing herself as an artist, Catharina van Hemessen finally has a show dedicated to her work.

Titled “Van Hemessen and Father,” the exhibition runs at the Snijders and Rockoxhuis museum in Antwerp, Belgium, through Jan. 31. Eleven of van Hemessen’s 19 known works, which are small-scale portraits and religious scenes, are on display alongside those of her father and teacher, Jan van Hemessen. In March, some of Catharina’s works will travel to the National Gallery in London for an exhibition focused entirely on her.

Although Catharina had a role in her father’s workshop in 16th-century Antwerp and independently produced paintings that were well-received by her contemporaries, her place in history books — unlike his — was never secure.

“She was almost eliminated in writing about art,” said Karolien De Clippel, the head of collections and research at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp, who first began digging into van Hemessen’s life in the 1990s as part of her master’s thesis.

Access full gift article, NO PAYWALL.

Guillaume de Marcillat was an exceptional 15th-century stained glass artist at the epicentre of the Italian art world of his time. Born in the central French town of Le Châtre, this incomparable master of narrative stained glass pops up smack dab at the apex of the High Renaissance: engaged by both Julius II and Leo X to decorate no less than 44 windows of the Apostolic Palace, and many more locales as well, with his harmoniously colourful scenes. Read more here about his remarkable art, including an extensive fresco series: https://ideasroadshow.substack.com/p/aiming-for-the-stars

I purchased a bookcollection of Maxfield Parrish works that includes extensive discussion about his works, him, his peers, and their work.

The book refers to Parrish as an “illustrator” and that got my brain racing through a field of zombies. I recall having a close friend lo neg ago explain that he is an illustrator, not a painter. And he explained the difference and it made sense to me.

Now it doesn’t. I went to wikipedia, and it says that an illustration is a depiction of a text, concept, or process designed to go into print.

Is that right? Is it the printing that makes it different? Because I can think of a lot of paintings that depict a text, concept, or process.

I would love it if anybody of lots of bodies can pitch in for an informative conversation that helps me grasp the difference between an illustrator and a painter (or “fine artist”). There are regions where these forms seems clear to me. But I think I’m getting lost at the edges or at some middle space (EDIT: or at some overlap where there’s some blurring maybe?) and that makes it harder to define the two clearly. And is Parrish… an illustrator?

Thank you for the help. Cheers!

I know Hopper died before de 70s and Dirty Realism was born in the mid 80s, but … Do you think there's an aesthetic link between them? I'm trying to write a short essay about it and I could really use your help : ).

Thanks!

The Grand Tour helped shape European collecting traditions, introducing generations of travelers to the sculpture of ancient Greece and Rome. By the nineteenth century, Naples had become an important center for the production of bronze reproductions inspired by antiquity.

Among the most celebrated workshops was the Chiurazzi Foundry, established in Naples in 1870.

Chiurazzi became known for producing carefully executed bronze casts of classical sculptures, drawing upon archaeological discoveries and important museum collections. Its work helped bring celebrated ancient forms into private collections, libraries and interiors far beyond Italy.

One fascinating historical document is the foundry's 1911 illustrated catalogue, which provides valuable evidence of the models and sculptures offered at that time.

For collectors today, understanding the distinction between an original ancient sculpture, a nineteenth-century Grand Tour reproduction and a later bronze cast is particularly important.

Details such as foundry marks, casting techniques, patination, dimensions and documented provenance can help establish a work's history.

After more than four decades of collecting and dealing in art, I continue to find the relationship between classical antiquity and the history of bronze casting particularly compelling.

I'm curious whether other collectors here have encountered Chiurazzi bronzes or other historic Neapolitan foundry casts. What characteristics do you look for when evaluating them?

— Mark Lukas
Maison Palm Beach

Further reading: The Art of Grand Tour Bronze

I have a question: how did artists back then paint these scenes of everyday life?

For instance, with the painting The Umbrellas by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, how did he capture that scene? Did he have people standing still for him to paint, or did he paint it all from his imagination? Because I imagine there were no cameras back then to take a reference photo, let alone photos in color. So, were people standing still, or was everyone moving? How did they capture the exact moment?

Hello! Hope everyone is well, I was recently introduced to the works of Louis Wain and I really want to read a good book about him. About a year ago I got this book on Egon Schiele and I really enjoy its format:

https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/egon-schiele-the-complete-paintings-1909-1918---40-years/26607618/

Is there a book like this for Louis Wain, and if not, is there at least a book that you would recommend? I’m hoping to make his works a part of my home art library.

Thanks in advance :)

The Creation of Adam — Michelangelo Buonarroti (c. 1508–1512)
The Tower of Babel — Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1563)
The White Angel — Mileševa Monastery fresco (13th century)
The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things — Hieronymus Bosch (c. 1500)
Paradise and Hell — Hieronymus Bosch
The Last Judgment Triptych — Hieronymus Bosch
The Fall of the Damned — Peter Paul Rubens (c. 1620)
Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee — Rembrandt van Rijn (1633)
The Raising of the Cross — Peter Paul Rubens (1610–1611)
The Coronation of the Virgin — Diego Velázquez (c. 1645)
The Triumph of Christianity over Paganism — Gustave Doré
The Great Day of His Wrath — John Martin (1851–1853)
Pietà — Michelangelo Buonarroti (1499)
The Sistine Madonna — Raphael (1512)
The Last Supper — Leonardo da Vinci (c. 1495–1498)

I’m listening to Waldemar Januszczak describe plein air impressionists who traveled by railcar to new locations in order to paint (even inventing a box easel for easy carrying on a train).

As artists left the studio to paint plein air, how did they carry impasto-wet canvases without A) getting oil paint on themselves, other train passengers and the train carriages, and B) not tearing or smudging the impasto paint-filled canvases (or otherwise get the paint covered with dust)?

I ask because I have all the conveniences of a modern car and I still find it difficult to carry canvases back and forth without damaging them, especially if they are still wet.

Margaret Preston (1875–1963) was one of Australia’s most influential modernist artists and a significant figure in the nation’s queer histories. Renowned for her bold post-impressionist woodcuts, still lifes, and incorporation of Indigenous Australian motifs, Preston spent her formative years with painter Bessie Davidson, with whom she travelled and studied across Europe from 1904 to 1911. She later formed a close relationship with Adelaide potter Gladys Reynell, and the pair lived and trained together in Europe until Margaret’s marriage to William Preston in 1919.

From the Art Gallery of New South Wales:

Margaret Preston painted this portrait in 1930 at the request of the Trustees of the Art Gallery of New South Wales. She confessed she was thrilled to receive the commission to paint what was, for her, an untested subject. As she later pointed out, “… my self-portrait is completed, but I am a flower painter—I am not a flower”. In a work as carefully designed and as uncompromising as the artist's still-lifes, Preston identifies and separates the essentials of her art: her brush and palette and a pot of wildflowers, a favourite subject, on the sill behind her.

(they can depict fictional creatures or characters, such as unicorns or demons. I mean that the style should be realistic, not abstract))

I'm putting together a Halloween decoration theme inspired by The Addams Family and need royalty-free, digitized artworks.

Specifically, I'm looking for darker pieces (black & white or limited color palettes) with eerie, melancholic, or macabre themes.

The plan is to print:

· Several framed A4 prints, and

· One large-scale centerpiece print (A1 or A0) — something resembling a tapestry would be ideal.

Any recommendations for sources, artists, or collections would be greatly appreciated.

Like how pink were the roses when they were first made and was the background color of the irises also pink?
And were there other paintings that had the poor lightfastness of geranium Lake and other fugitive pigments?

New question: did the Starry Night painting had any fugitive pigments on it that, when it was first painted the night sky was more of a violet color than blue?

In 1802, London was home to a very special bull. It arrived in a specially designed carriage, after a tour of England and Scotland. At every stop, the ox drew crowds that came to stare at its massive size. Weighing nearly three thousand pounds, the existence of such a fat cow was a wonder.

The Durham ox was immortalized in a painting, and print reproductions sold by the thousands. But the ox was part of a much larger trend. Wealthy British landowners were breeding animals larger and fatter than ever before. Proud of their achievements and eager for recognition, they commissioned paintings of themselves and their livestock. And the public couldn’t get enough of them.

More here: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/britain-cows-pig-sheep-paintings-livestock

I'm researching the use of the pileus, or liberty cap, as a symbol in the French and American Revolutions, especially how it came to be red and how it came to be conflated with the Phrygian Cap. In some early American usage (Great Seal of New York and Liberty Displaying the Arts and Sciences Samuel Jennings ca. 1792) the caps are gold and white but all French usage is red. It would make sense that the red color is a French innovation to align with the earlier bonnets rouge movement.

However Linnaeus named the Pileated Woodpecker, a bird with a red Crest, in 1757. I'm trying to figure out if red would have been associated with the pileus at this time or if the name is merely for the shape of the Crest and the color is a coincidence. Phrygian Caps have been depicted as red (as well as other colors) since antiquity but the above painting is the earliest example I can find of the Goddess Libertas with a specifically red pileus.

It is Apotheosis of Venice Paolo Veronese ca. 1585. It should also be mentioned that the Doges of Venice wore a distinctive crown called the Corno Ducale which was often red and has been compared to the Phrygian Cap. I am wondering if anybody knows of other early European depictions of Libertas where the hat on her pole is red?