A picture speaks a thousand words. You know it's true. Remember this on your next trip to the
Detroit Institute of Arts (or any other art museum you may wind up in) and you can play along with my favorite art-watcher's game:
What's Happening Here?
The rules are obvious, so I'll just start out by completely overwhelming you:
I introduce you to "The Court of Death", by Rembrandt Peale. A huge HUGE painting (left-side pictured above, right-side pictured below. Click pictures to enlarge, if that helps.) If a picture speaks a thousand words, than this painting is an epic saga. At least a 3-hour movie or four-part miniseries. You see the executioner, right? You see dead bodies. Some people are screaming. Some people are mourning. Some people look utterly content and its hard to understand why. Is the man above (to the left of the green dress) self-inflicting? Or, hanging on to dear life while trying to remove the death weapon from his ribcage? Why the cherub? Or is that a baby? Who's really human and who is not?
Well, this painting is a Level III in my game. The novice version is much more fun. So, on a lighter note, here's what I found was "happening here" on my last visit:
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| The New Scholar, Franics Edmunds |
This kid's got my heart. I feel ya buddy! The first day of his school career and he's got the right idea. His dog isn't sure about the teacher and I trust him even less! The mother, like most grown-ups, has much too much faith in authority figures. But, the youth and animals, who've yet to lose their innocence, have that undeniable radar of something being amiss. That teacher, I'll tell ya. He's got the face and presence of one who keeps the kids after class a little too often and doles out the spankings a little too freely. I see a window in the corner, kid. Plan your escape now!
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| Mrs. Bradford Ripley Alden and her Children, Robert Walter Weir |
I love this tricky snapshot of motherhood. Your eye is first drawn to the children sweetly kissing. Faking an image of serenity. Then you look around the room. Toys a mess. Mother looking weary. A sword and a chair tangled up in the curtain. And, anyone who's ever owned a dog recognizes Lassie's posture here. She's not down for a nap either. That's the stance of a dog who's been running amok with the children until mother convinced them to settle down for a nap. (And, they're only down for a nap because they've decided they've run out of steam!) The dog is not lying there because mother commanded, "Sit! Stay!" He's taking his cues from the children. That tail is still swishing back and forth and his legs are ready to pounce back up the second one of those kids gets their second wind. And, mother... Poor frazzled mother. If that's a Bible she's trying to read to them, it looks like she's turned to the mid-New Testament. What she needs to do is flip back to the "Thou Shalt Not"s!
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| The Merrymakers, Carolus-Duran |
I was scared to look at this too hard at first because I found it simply delightful and I was worried if I concentrated too much I'd see the "true meaning" of the work. I'd seen enough European art that day to know birds don't always fair well in it. They're usually a sign of death, or if you look closely, alot of them are just literally dead. I saw the the overly anxious child (thoughts of Lenny from Of Mice and Men) and then the butter knife on the table and winced. But, once I cracked one eye back open and noticed the butter knife is placed a safe position, pointing away. And, the bird is just a pet (and a hilarious one, from the looks of things.) The nanny knows what she's doing and is probably the best one in town. And, everyone is just having a marvelous time while the men are at work. (Oh. And the woman, touching her chest in exaggerated laughter, is trying to get the artist's attention. Believe me!)
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| The Cottagers, Joshua Reynolds |
There's a little companion guide that goes with this one near the bench that faces it. It explains that these women are mother (in red, with hair in rags), daughter (feeding chickens) and neighbor (head full of hay.) It explains that they are of wealth and it doesn't make traditional sense for them to be wearing these clothes or doing these chores. Then it goes on to ask you challenging questions about what's going on. Yeah, yeah, I'm already playing that game... The neighbor doesn't even belong there. She's not only the town busy-body, but also the town Knicker-Dropper (if you catch my drift...) She heard the handsome male portrait artist was going to be next door and decide to run over and have her dress fall half off. She knows what they say about men who spend all day painting ladies while their husbands are away... Well, nobody really says anything about him yet, but she's ready and willing to start that rumor. Mother is the neighbor's gossip buddy. She would have probably showed up that day anyhow. The empty spinning wheel suggests that the pamphlet is probably correct in assuming these aren't these ladies' regular chores. Mother obviously doesn't even know how to work a spinning wheel, but she has figured out how to feign exhaustion while sitting next to one. Neighbor wouldn't be hauling straw in that dress because all those loose little straw bits are now falling down into her cleavage. Daughter is probably sincere in her chicken feeding though. Someone else gets paid to officially do it, but she gets bored and lonely during the women's gossip sessions and has made friends with the chickens on her own time. The biggest clue that this scene is staged is, like always, look to the dog. If the women were really just toiling away about their everyday chores, the dog wouldn't be just sitting there with playful joy on his face. It'd be routine, he'd be bored with it. He'd be either rounding up the chickens, running around, off in the sheep pasture, or sleeping under a shade tree. Every signal on his face signifies that there is laughter going on. "Let's play like we're working, when my husband sees this he won't mind you coming over here everyday. He'll think we actually doing something while he's away at work!" Hee hee hee hee hee. Oh yeah, and they're also speaking in fake Cockney accents while the actual maid with the actual Cockney accent is in the barn, within earshot, scraping up cow poop. (Ten bucks says the artist worked this scam all over town. He'll paint the rich women as if they're working, get them in good with their husbands, and in return they invite over their naughty neighbors whose dresses are promised to fall off by the end of the session.)
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| Burgomeister With Key, Ivan Albright |
Burgermeister Meisterburger. That toy-hating bully from Santa Claus is Coming to Town is my only experience with burgomeisters. I thought this guy was a jail keeper, because of the key, but now I've learned that the title Burgomeister means "Master of the Town" or "Master of the Fortress". Or, something like, what we call these days, a mayor. Key to the city, then? I didn't extend his story any further because I became too distracted by the fact that he needs some serious eye drops in his left eye.
And, lastly, I bring you a little portrait named Mrs. William Allen, by John Hesselius:
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can't look at this one without that visceral reaction. How much this painting is worth would probably astound me then repulse me, so please nobody do the research... I don't want to know! This one is so awkward to me, because the only part of the painting that looks three-dimensional at all is the head. Therefore, is has that awkward Face-in-a-Hole feel to it, that's utterly distracting and hilarious at the same time. You know what a Face-in-a-Hole is, right? One of these:
When I saw this in person for the first time, I was hoping my amusement didn't make me a bad person. So, I called my mom from around the corner to take a peek and therefore gauge the inappropriateness of my own response. She said, "What?" and then I motioned to her "what", she followed up with a noise something like a suprised, "Ack!" and then a smirky smile. Phew. It's not just me! We'd tried to stifle our laughter from the security guard roaming nearby as it took me a little while to tear myself away.
Conclusion: Either a.) "Mrs." Allen was one of history's very first drag queens, b.) Mrs. Allen was indeed a woman, and I'm a very despicable person for implying otherwise, c.) John Hesselius was just a horrible portrait artist and the DIA acquired this work only because Mr. Allen came home, saw what he had wasted his money on, apologized to his wife, and then threw it the window or d.) This actually is a Face-in-a-Hole and, since cameras weren't invented yet, John Hesselius was forced to do his own self portrait of his own face in said hole over many long nights and by way of mirror and candlelight.
Hmmm... a multiple choice story. This one is complicated. I think we've found the, unplayed until now, Level IV of my game!
Good luck with it. You are now ready to go pro!
Inside, turn a bend in the Victorian Greenhouse and you'll encounter a Degas and yet another Rodin, casually mixed amongst the flora. In addition to the Victorian Greenhouse, indoor attractions include a tropical greenhouse (complete with waterfall), a carnivorous garden, ever-changing collections of international art displays, a delicious cafe (Try any menu item made with wheat berry bread. You won't regret it!) and gift shop that I just couldn't leave alone.
