syncategorematic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
syncategorematic) wrote2010-07-10 05:17 pm
syncategorematic) wrote2010-07-10 05:17 pm
Entry tags:
How to Recognize Renaissance, and Other, Art
My feet were beginning to complain by the time we went to the Prado, which is a pretty good walk from the Royal Palace.
After 6 pm, the Prado is free. We arrived there at 5:56, with that intention in mind, and sat for five minutes, waiting. I was listening to a busking classical guitarist, who was pretty darn good in my opinion. I even vaguely recognized some of what he played --- Carcassi and Tarrega studies? My brother is chancellor of the exchequer when it comes to euros on this trip, though; if it had been up to me, I would have given the guitarist a coin.
There was a large line, still, for the special exhibition on Turner and the Masters.
Now there had been a Turner exhibition at the Tate when I had been in London, and I had seen enough Turner to therefore last the rest of my life. I vividly remember declining to hot_soup to proceed to yet another room of Turner at the end of it. I now recognize a Turner dead on at twenty paces, and I will happily skip this exhibition of Turner at the Prado. And the Maestros with him, too.
At six, we found where the entrance to the ticket office is, got almost wordlessly handed our tickets, and proceeded to find the permanent collection entrance, because the Prado admission system is set up weirdly.
It also involves passing purses and bags through a security scanner, just like at the Royal Palace. My purse, which now (see previous post) contained no concealed weapons, got through fine. But unlike the Royal Palace, they took exception to the fact that my brother had my netbook in his purse. They insisted that he check it, so he had to go back for it. At a loss between going back to help him and waiting for him, I moved between the line several times, and the guard ladies would each time, not seeing my face, nod to me to put my purse on the scanner. In the end, my purse got x-rayed three times, my netbook and the rest of my brother's bag got checked, and my brother was moving through the Prado very pissed off (his Spanish is worse than mine, never a benefit when you're dealing with security.)
We went into the Renaissance section.
You know those wonderful Eyewitness Books series? I used to own the one on Renaissance Art (I think it is still in my family home), and only later did I appreciate how much knowledge was packed into it and got distilled into my brain --- I learned that when I started winning quiz games based in part on reliably naming famous Renaissance paintings, sculptures and artists from descriptions and biographies. That book was produced in cooperation with the National Art Gallery of London, and when I went to London, I saw most of the paintings in it in real life. I even thought that the book was pretty much only based on the National Art Gallery.
No, some of it was at the Prado. Like van der Weyden's magnificent Descent from the Cross altarpiece. And Hieronymous Bosch (he is called El Bosco in Spanish, so I did not recognize it at first; a lot of people were around it, so I want to look at it again) Garden of Earthly Delights. And Brueghel's Triumph of Death ("What's that, the zombie apocalypse?" my brother asked, looking at it. I thought for a moment and grinned, "Yes, you can say that.")
But after the first Renaissance section, I was passing through and I was getting serious sensory overload; I had seen a lot today. I found myself skipping through painting descriptions and moving just to the paintings in a room that immediately appealed to me, rather than looking at them all. It had been a long day. My brain had seen just too much.
Paintings that I wrote down that I liked:
Nicholas Poussin's Saint Cecilia
Miichel Coxcie, Saint Cecilia also (I like music, in case you haven't noticed)
Mor, Pejeron the Buffoon (somehow the court paintings of the buffoons made them very sad people)
Quentin Massys, Christ Shown To The People
Joaquin Sorolla, And They Still Say Fish Is Expensive (it shows two fishermen trying to revive a dying young fisherman)
Antonio Gisbert, The Execution of Torrijos
Raimundo de Madrazo, Aline Masson (there were two portraits of her I liked; Wikimedia only has the one with a white mantilla)
Emilio Sala, Expulsion of the Jews (this was the first time a painting conveyed to me how the Catholic kings actually felt when they did it, and how did Torquemada feel; it does not excuse the act, but...)
and some others I can't find on Wikimedia right now.
Please let me know of any mistaken links.
But yes, I can say I've seen Titian and Tintoretto and Rembrandt and Caravaggio.
And Goya's Black Paintings.
Goya ended up going the same way Turner did; I first met Goya when one of the things I brought back from my first trip to Spain was a stationery set featuring his paintings, on sale. By the end of the Museo del Prado, I can recognize a Goya dead on at twenty paces --- and I skipped ten rooms of Goya.
After 6 pm, the Prado is free. We arrived there at 5:56, with that intention in mind, and sat for five minutes, waiting. I was listening to a busking classical guitarist, who was pretty darn good in my opinion. I even vaguely recognized some of what he played --- Carcassi and Tarrega studies? My brother is chancellor of the exchequer when it comes to euros on this trip, though; if it had been up to me, I would have given the guitarist a coin.
There was a large line, still, for the special exhibition on Turner and the Masters.
Now there had been a Turner exhibition at the Tate when I had been in London, and I had seen enough Turner to therefore last the rest of my life. I vividly remember declining to hot_soup to proceed to yet another room of Turner at the end of it. I now recognize a Turner dead on at twenty paces, and I will happily skip this exhibition of Turner at the Prado. And the Maestros with him, too.
At six, we found where the entrance to the ticket office is, got almost wordlessly handed our tickets, and proceeded to find the permanent collection entrance, because the Prado admission system is set up weirdly.
It also involves passing purses and bags through a security scanner, just like at the Royal Palace. My purse, which now (see previous post) contained no concealed weapons, got through fine. But unlike the Royal Palace, they took exception to the fact that my brother had my netbook in his purse. They insisted that he check it, so he had to go back for it. At a loss between going back to help him and waiting for him, I moved between the line several times, and the guard ladies would each time, not seeing my face, nod to me to put my purse on the scanner. In the end, my purse got x-rayed three times, my netbook and the rest of my brother's bag got checked, and my brother was moving through the Prado very pissed off (his Spanish is worse than mine, never a benefit when you're dealing with security.)
We went into the Renaissance section.
You know those wonderful Eyewitness Books series? I used to own the one on Renaissance Art (I think it is still in my family home), and only later did I appreciate how much knowledge was packed into it and got distilled into my brain --- I learned that when I started winning quiz games based in part on reliably naming famous Renaissance paintings, sculptures and artists from descriptions and biographies. That book was produced in cooperation with the National Art Gallery of London, and when I went to London, I saw most of the paintings in it in real life. I even thought that the book was pretty much only based on the National Art Gallery.
No, some of it was at the Prado. Like van der Weyden's magnificent Descent from the Cross altarpiece. And Hieronymous Bosch (he is called El Bosco in Spanish, so I did not recognize it at first; a lot of people were around it, so I want to look at it again) Garden of Earthly Delights. And Brueghel's Triumph of Death ("What's that, the zombie apocalypse?" my brother asked, looking at it. I thought for a moment and grinned, "Yes, you can say that.")
But after the first Renaissance section, I was passing through and I was getting serious sensory overload; I had seen a lot today. I found myself skipping through painting descriptions and moving just to the paintings in a room that immediately appealed to me, rather than looking at them all. It had been a long day. My brain had seen just too much.
Paintings that I wrote down that I liked:
Nicholas Poussin's Saint Cecilia
Miichel Coxcie, Saint Cecilia also (I like music, in case you haven't noticed)
Mor, Pejeron the Buffoon (somehow the court paintings of the buffoons made them very sad people)
Quentin Massys, Christ Shown To The People
Joaquin Sorolla, And They Still Say Fish Is Expensive (it shows two fishermen trying to revive a dying young fisherman)
Antonio Gisbert, The Execution of Torrijos
Raimundo de Madrazo, Aline Masson (there were two portraits of her I liked; Wikimedia only has the one with a white mantilla)
Emilio Sala, Expulsion of the Jews (this was the first time a painting conveyed to me how the Catholic kings actually felt when they did it, and how did Torquemada feel; it does not excuse the act, but...)
and some others I can't find on Wikimedia right now.
Please let me know of any mistaken links.
But yes, I can say I've seen Titian and Tintoretto and Rembrandt and Caravaggio.
And Goya's Black Paintings.
Goya ended up going the same way Turner did; I first met Goya when one of the things I brought back from my first trip to Spain was a stationery set featuring his paintings, on sale. By the end of the Museo del Prado, I can recognize a Goya dead on at twenty paces --- and I skipped ten rooms of Goya.
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I've added some to the entry after you've commented on it.
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Interestingly, I visited the Carravaggio that hangs in the KC art museum yesterday, too!
So beautiful.
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There were at least two Caravaggios there, although this was in my nearly-stoned from sensory overload situation, so after a little post-event research:
Most of the images are not loading fast enough for me, and I'm not sure if it's my side or Prado's at fault but the Prado has searchable galleries online, and Caravaggio pulls out a bunch of hits. (http://www.museodelprado.es/index.php?id=995&no_cache=1&L=0&tx_obras[adv]=)
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