All tagged Revolution
You voted, and we listened! For the next couple of months, we’re replaying your top five favorite episodes of ArtCurious. Thanks to the many who voted! Up this week, it’s our fave lady, back from Season 1— it’s Episode #3, all about Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun. ~Heart eyes emojis!~
Works that we take for granted today as masterpieces, or as epitomes of the finest of fine art, could also have been considered ugly, of poor quality, or just bad when they were first made. With the passage of time comes a calm and an acceptance. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are many works peppered throughout art history that were straight-up shocking to the public when they were first presented decades, or even hundreds of years ago.
Today's work of "shock art:" David’s The Death of Marat.
There’s an old quote that I’m sure you’ve heard referenced in a million sitcoms or Looney Tunes cartoons- though it actually stems from a 1932 western-- where one character, all flinty-eyed, turns to another, and declares, “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.” It’s an order meant to scare someone away, but it’s also a declaration of the feelings of rivalry, of jealousy, as if it shouldn’t be allowed that two people of similar stature could be functioning-- or even flourishing-- in the same place and time. After all, you couldn’t possibly have two star quarterbacks on the team, or two top valedictorians. Someone always has to be the best, or even more importantly, to be seen by the public as the best. But was this true in the case of the two top female painters in Revolutionary-era France?
One of the most awe-inspiring sights in and around St. Petersburg, Russia, is the Catherine Palace, a rococo summer residence for the imperial family of yore. Up until World War II, The Catherine Palace housed something so incredible, so coveted, and so gorgeous that for hundreds of years, travelers fro all over the world flocked to admire it, referred to as the "Eighth Wonder of the World." And then, in the early 1940s with the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, this priceless creation was stolen. And to this day, it has still never been found.
What happened to the Amber Room?
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, had an image problem: she was seen as frivolous, silly, and out-of-touch. In order to combat her poor press, the royal court commissioned a series of portraits of the queen to make her more relatable and sympathetic. Such images act as excellent propaganda machines, giving Marie Antoinette a much-needed positive spin. But what is even more marvelous is the backstory of the artist who created these portraits-- because the painter who was chosen to portray the highest woman in the land was… another woman.
Talk about a revolution.
In the third episode of the ArtCurious Podcast, we'll look at the lucky and semi-charmed life of Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, one of the most popular painters of 18th-century France and the official court painter of Marie Antoinette.
Glamour. Curiosity. Excitement. A love story for the ages. Such are the types of descriptors that you hear when you ponder the life and love of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Truly, in the pantheon of great artistic relationships, they are one of the top couples out there. And they had the great fortune, or whatever you want to call it, of living their exciting lives in front of the camera, as well as on canvas. Google them, and all kinds of lovey-dovey images come up-- images of Diego nuzzling Frida, images of them kissing, of her embracing him around his wide middle section. But what some people neglect, or possibly even forget, is that their relationship was by no means perfect. There were great ups, of course, but the downs? Incredible. Even Diego Rivera himself was aware of this fact, later writing, quote, “If I ever loved a woman, the more I loved her, the more I wanted to hurt her. Frida was the most obvious victim of this disgusting trait.” Harsh words. But would they always be that way?
There’s something a little strange about the pairing of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Certainly it’s the surprise of a pairing of seeming opposites, at least from a physical standpoint-- she the small, seductive, and somewhat frail painter whose subject matter referred to the most intimate sides of her own life; he, the large and somewhat brutish muralist whose large-scale works touched upon revolution and justice and larger issues of Mexican history. There’s almost a Beauty and the Beast quality there, and for many of us, the relationship between these two artists is just as intriguing as their creative output. And especially when it comes to Frida’s art, it’s very hard to separate their love from their artistic legacy. But how did it begin? And what is it about these two that makes them so fascinating, even 60 years later?
One of the most awe-inspiring sights in and around St. Petersburg, Russia, is the Catherine Palace, a rococo summer residence for the imperial family of yore. Up until World War II, The Catherine Palace housed something so incredible, so coveted, and so gorgeous that for hundreds of years, travelers fro all over the world flocked to admire it, referred to as the "Eighth Wonder of the World." And then, in the early 1940s with the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, this priceless creation was stolen. And to this day, it has still never been found.
What happened to the Amber Room?
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, had an image problem: she was seen as frivolous, silly, and out-of-touch. In order to combat her poor press, the royal court commissioned a series of portraits of the queen to make her more relatable and sympathetic. Such images act as excellent propaganda machines, giving Marie Antoinette a much-needed positive spin. But what is even more marvelous is the backstory of the artist who created these portraits-- because the painter who was chosen to portray the highest woman in the land was… another woman.
Talk about a revolution.
In the third episode of the ArtCurious Podcast, we'll look at the lucky and semi-charmed life of Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, one of the most popular painters of 18th-century France and the official court painter of Marie Antoinette.
