Look, See

Untitled (Stravinsky by Avedon)

 

 

Untitled (Stravinsky by Avedon), 2005, HTML & JPEG, 146 x 700 pixels (image used without permission)

 

 

 

 

Untitled (Green Flash)

 

 

Untitled (Green Flash), 2005, HTML & JPEG, 540 x 360 pixels (image used without permission)

 

 

 

 

Untitled (Giacometti)

 

 

Untitled (Giacometti),
2005, HTML & JPEG, 310 x 220 pixels

 

 

 

 

The Hands in Manet's "The Dead Christ and the Angels"

 

 

There are three figures, four hands, and two feet in Édouard Manet's The Dead Christ and the Angels[1]. This remarkable painting at the Metropolitan Museum, New York was painted in 1864. It is remarkable because it is a painting with a contradiction. It is an agnostic painting, and deeply human.

The Dead Christ is a modern painting because it is obviously staged and theatrical, and it is real in a way that past religious painting never tried to be. Positioned on either side of Jesus, the angels look like his contemporaries posed for the scene. These two young women are nearly the same size as the savior, and they emanate none of the supernatural light that angels are expected to have. Instead, they are lit from the same source as Christ, which comes from the direction of the painter. In a sense, they bask in the glow of the painter's sight. Also, these two contemporary angels are much different from angels in paintings three hundred years earlier who might be of an entirely different scale and bearing from Christ, practically appearing as aliens.

This painting is doubtful, meaning that it depicts a fictitious scene, which is to say it's agnostic. Yet it is also a a deeply human and emotional painting, loaded with pathos. There is a sorrow in the painting that results from an acknowledgement of great loss: there is the death of a human, which is tragic; there is the loss of a possible savior, which is catastrophic; and there is the possibility that there is no savior at all, which is hopeless and devastating.

Manet's painting is made with an almost off-hand, confident, easy directness. Look beyond the overall image- the part of the painting that is the picture of things that you recognize- and simply look at the paint itself. It's something you see when go up close to the painting and look closely at its surface. What does the paint tell you? If you read the paint, Manet demonstrates for the viewer that paint is merely a material means to representation, a fabrication, and that there are lots of shortcuts in using paint to achieve representation.

Manet's paint in The Dead Christ is almost like tempera, like children's paint. You know when preschoolers stand at their little easels and use fat brushes to cover sheets of paper with tempera paint from bottles, and the paint just goes on and covers and colors and has this strong presence, very direct? That's the paint in this painting. It's such a straight shot from the brush, right from Manet's wrist and hand. There isn't a lot of messing around- well, there probably is some fussiness, getting the strokes and the color in the right places, but that doesn't really show. The paint and the strokes fall into place, into a holistic surface descriptive enough to become the image of a dead Christ and two angels. There is a consistent quality to the paint throughout: the strokes weave and merge, the colors make a seamless whole, and the surface integrates into a coherent and contained composition. And it gets even more direct; look at the dark outlines around many of the shapes, for example, the hands- Manet draws with the brush with a powerfully clear intent, much in the same way our young preschooler would outline an object  This plainness, a way of painting that is material and just descriptive enough, matches Manet's faith, or rather, lack of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There are three figures, four hands, and two feet in this painting. These extremities express three key emotions: love, grief, and finality.

The hand of the angel on the right supports Christ's head, while her left hand, hidden behind cloth so it's not really present, supports his elbow. She holds him tenderly, with great love, but her effort is also exertion, as she holds Jesus's head up so we can see his face. Without her support Christ's head would flop back, and his body would appear to be headless. Through her strength and action we bear witness: he is dead. Her face shows this awareness. One can't help but think of the infamous photograph of Che Guevara in a final pose taken to prove that he really is dead; Jesus's death was also seen as the end of a dangerous radical, but who knew how that would turn out?

The hand of the angel on the left is at her forehead in grief. Her fingers are spread; one arches up to her forehead, pressing at pressing its point near the bridge of the nose, trying to makes sense, to intellecutalize this event: can this have really happened? Her smallest finger pushes into her eye, as if in disbelief at what she's seen.

The only figure showing both hands and any feet is that of a dead body, of Jesus. Both hands and feet show wounds that evidence a final betrayal and sacrifice; his pierced lifeless hands are laid palm up, and there are blunt, ragged holes on the top of his feet. His hands lay open, almost in a shrug, as if to say, "See, I told you," or, "Whaddya gonna do?"  Jesus' right hand (on the left), the "proper and honest" hand, is brighter, more open, painted "better." It shows the faintest flicker of a hint of life, which is just about to seep away. His left hand (on the right) is darker, muddier, more closed; that hand is gone, collapsed, lifeless. Jesus looks quite mortal, and his hands and feet are now just meat, flesh drained of all blood.

Manet's Christ has much in common with other paintings. For example, Andrea Mantegna's The Lamentation over the Dead Christ, c. 1490[2], and Hans Holbein's The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb, 1521[3] both show Jesus's body as mortal, tortured flesh, particularly the northerner Holbein's, which shows an emaciated cadaver. Both Holbein and Mategna bring the witness up close, as if they are right beside the corpse. Manet puts Christ on stage, however, like a publicity shot, keeping the viewer at a distance. The rocks and the snake in the foreground are like props, papier mache objects in a diorama. Our distance from the event makes us casual observers, if we want that, but finally Jesus is our contemporary, one of us, and the wounds seem more real, even plausible.

It's that brutal finality, lifelessness shown in ordinary ways-- in hands, fingers, and feet, body parts just like ours, a likeness that we share-- that makes this Christ stand not only for our own mortality, but also for the sense of loss we feel as time goes by, as people we love go away, as we imagine our own end. Manet's agnosticism-- a failure to fully believe in a being greater than ourselves-- makes the subject much more human, and much more personal, sadder, brighter, momentary, brilliant, and unique.

[1] The Dead Christ and the Angels, 1864, Édouard Manet (French, 1832–1883), Oil on canvas; 70 5/8 x 59 in. (179.4 x 149.9 cm), H. O. Havemeyer, Collection, Bequest of Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer, 1929 (29.100.51)
[2] The Lamentation over the Dead Christ, Mantegna, Andrea, (b. 1431, Isola di Cartura, d. 1506, Mantova), . c. 1490, Tempera on canvas, 68 x 81 cm, Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan
[3] The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb, Holbein, Hans, 1521, Oil on wood, Kunstmuseum Basel, Basel, Switzerland

Photos:
Top and Middle: Chris Ashley, Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY, May 2005
Bottom: Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY (used without permission)

Chris Ashley is an artist and educator who also writes about art. He lives in Oakland, and posts a drawing everyday on his weblog Look, See.

 

 

 

 

Gallery Siano installation

 

 

 

Vince Romaniello kindly sent this installation view today from The Urban Canvas at Gallery Siano, Philadelphia, where Vince's solo show is the main attraction and a number of others are in the accompanying group show. That's my Qinglü 1-5 on the left (2005, Pencil, ink & watercolor of Rives BFK), and SF painter Anna Conti's three paintings on the right (all acrylic on canvas).

See Anna's weblog, more recent work. and her impressive portfolio of paintings. Anna is also part of a four-person show at Newmark Gallery in SF called San Francisco Cityscapes, which I saw and liked.

Vince wrote,"By chance Luella hung your work side by side just like Oakland and SF, kinda."

 

 

 

 

Untitled (Running Dog)

 

 

Untitled (Running Dog), 2005, HTML & JPEG, 340 x 500 pixels (image used without permission)

 

 

 

 

Artblog link to Vince Romaniello interview

 

 

Roberta Fallon's and Libby Rosof's Philadelphia Artblog excerpted and linked to my interview with Vince Romaniello.

 

Installation photograph, Gallery Siano, The Urban Canvas, Septemebr 30 - October 29, 2005

 

 

 

 

Housekeeping

 

 

I've spent the past few days photographing, scanning, and building and/or linking together three websites within the chrisashley.net domain:

• There is now a Main page linking to three sub-sites:


• Paintings and Drawings- recent work
• Look, See- this weblog
• HTML Drawings- the entire site contained on a CD published a year ago by edition S.p.N.LAUB in Austria

I have also updated my bio.

 

 

 

 

Rephotograping

 

 

Just rephotographed several 2005 paintings:

Jersey, 2005, oil on canvas, four panels, 20 x 16 inches each, 20 x 70 inches installed

Returning, 2004-05, oil on canvas, four panels, 16 x 12 inches each, 16 x 54 inches installed

 

Domestic, 2005, oil on canvas, four panels, 18 x 14 inches, 18 x 62 inches installed

 

Untitled, 2005, oil on canvas, four panels, 18 x 14 inches each, 18 x 62 inches installed

 

 

Sliabh Gorm, 2004-05, oil on canvas, four panels, 16 x 12 inches each, 16 x 54 inches installed

 

Limantour, 2005, oil on canvas, two panels, 18 x 14 inches each, 18 x 30 inches installed

 

Sliabh Ruadh, 2005, oil on canvas, 16 x 12 inches