PORTRAIT OF MARIAN ANDERSON, 1941
Right now that includes On Writing by Stephen King, The Faraway Nearby by Rebecca Solnit, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art (about icons), by Hans Belting, Prayer by Hans Urs von Balthasar, Broken Vessels (an old favorite) by Andre Dubus, and Edward Hirsch's The Demon and the Angel.
The one I'm actually reading, and taking my time on, is The Accidental Masterpiece: On the Art of Life and Vice Versa, by Michael Kimmelman. (Which I learned about from Altoon Sultan's excellent blog, Studio and Garden: she posted on the chapter about the painter Pierre Bonnard and his possibly pathological but art-generating relationship with his muse, Marthe de Meligny).
The Accidental Masterpiece is one of my favorite kind of books, meandering about to various subjects (The Quilts of Gee's Bend, the paintings of Chardin), touching on all kinds of things I know a little about and now want to know more (Donald Judd and Marfa, Texas; Grunewald's Isenheim Altarpiece), and introducing me to people I've never heard of (painter Horace Pippin, Michael Heizer, Charlotte Salomon, who quietly, more or less invisibly created a "roughly 1.300-page quasi-fictional diary of text and pictures," then died at Auschwitz).
|LORETTA PETTWAY, |
QUILT (4 BLOCK STRIPS), c. 1960,
78 x 73 INCHES,
COURTESY GEE'S BEND QUILTS
One of Kimmelman's best reflections is on Chardin. Here's an excerpt:
"The art historian Michael Baxandall has pointed out how, by causing viewers to linger over his various little objects, Chardin was subtly devising works that have multiple points of focus, and thereby expressing contemporaneous theories about how we do not take in complex space all at once but instead piece together the accumulated perception of different colors and shapes...
We are a society of families surrounded by the objects we have accumulated, which can become part of the family, too. We become more or less attached to these things, as to pets and people. All writers about Chardin point out that a small and specific pictorial family reappears again and again in his art, a family of cups and pans. We recognize them as we do friends after a while. Chardin's attendance on their condition, and by extension our attendance, because of the eloquence of his painting, can be so loving and complete that it approaches transference. Henri Cartier-Bresson, the photographer, who spent his last decades monkishly drawing copies of Chardin's and other artists' paintings in the Louvre, pointed out that in Chardin's famous picture of a dead ray hanging gutted from a hook, the ray looked as if it were crucified. This dovetails with Proust's equally fantastic metaphor for the ray as 'the nave of a polychrome cathedral.' Somehow even Chardin's pictures of food prompt thoughts of God."
THE RAY, or THE KITCHEN INTERIOR, 1728