British model Ivory Flame is truly a modern Pre-Raphaelite stunner. Her looks, and her modeling work, take my breath away.
Especially this photographic rendition of Flaming June.
Click her name to explore so many beautiful pictures.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Ivory Flame
British model Ivory Flame is truly a modern Pre-Raphaelite stunner. Her looks, and her modeling work, take my breath away.
Especially this photographic rendition of Flaming June.
Click her name to explore so many beautiful pictures.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Hippie Beads Part II
Oh my. I have a little bit of a backlog of things to blog about...I've been so busy I've neglected the site!
First, let me start with an addendum to the earlier post I did about the apparent Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic obsession with amber "hippie beads."
Although details are still sketchy about why the Pre-Raphaelites were so fond of these beads (it could just simply be that they were a reaction to the ornate jewelry of the time, the same way that aesthetic gowns were a reaction to ornate dresses), there were many wonderful comments given about the subject. If you missed the responses, here are a few highlights:
"I'm not sure about the rough-hewn wooden beads, but coral beads were very popular for young people, especially babies and toddlers, in the 19th Century as coral was believed to have protective properties against illness and evil. Often a child's first proper necklace would be made of coral. I'm not sure why they would have been appealing to Rossetti, although I did just now read that coral is supposedly good for a cure of a long illness. Makes sense for Lizzie! Or maybe he wanted to infer youthfullness?" --From Robin
"Sandalwood beads were thought to have healing properties as well as amber beads. Going way back, the nobility had gold and gemstones which the poor people wanted to copy so they actually painted wood beads to look like gold set with stones and later these beads alone became popular. When Europeans reached the new world, they found that they could trade glass and semi-precious beads with the Native Americans. These beads were found all over the world by traders and travelers from Venice to Africa. So, beads started to poor into America and what started as the poorman's version of good and jewels soon became worth a lot on its own-that is when we started seeing all the amazing beadwork done by Native Americans. Beads have ever since been a big deal and used as currency which is why I think they ended up as sign of royalty and used in so many costumes, fancy clothing and finally in paintings. That's all I know!" --From Merle
"I did not know that about coral, and it certainly makes sense. However, it makes me wonder if the use of certain colors on a particular figure is also a painter's device? The red beads help define a fiery spirit and lush, dangerous sensuality as depicted in Sandys' Medea, and on Rossetti's Monna Vanna just to cite an example. " --From Lisa
"I had a professor tell us that the red/coral beads signified a fallen woman, but that doesn't explain their overall significance or popularity at the time."--From Tara
Tara's comment actually leads me into this example, which Stephanie Pina, the awesome webmistress of the Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood website, found for me. The artwork is "Thoughts of the Past" by John Spencer Stanhope, and I never noticed the "hippie beads" in this artwork, since they aren't being worn:
Tara, I think you hit the nail on the head for the symbolism of the beads, at least in this artwork. The painting depicts a fallen woman (what a shock...the Pre-Raphaelites so rarely painted those...) pondering her past during a moment of regret. The inclusion of red/coral beads is perfectly apt here.
More posts soon!
First, let me start with an addendum to the earlier post I did about the apparent Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic obsession with amber "hippie beads."
Although details are still sketchy about why the Pre-Raphaelites were so fond of these beads (it could just simply be that they were a reaction to the ornate jewelry of the time, the same way that aesthetic gowns were a reaction to ornate dresses), there were many wonderful comments given about the subject. If you missed the responses, here are a few highlights:
"I'm not sure about the rough-hewn wooden beads, but coral beads were very popular for young people, especially babies and toddlers, in the 19th Century as coral was believed to have protective properties against illness and evil. Often a child's first proper necklace would be made of coral. I'm not sure why they would have been appealing to Rossetti, although I did just now read that coral is supposedly good for a cure of a long illness. Makes sense for Lizzie! Or maybe he wanted to infer youthfullness?" --From Robin
"Sandalwood beads were thought to have healing properties as well as amber beads. Going way back, the nobility had gold and gemstones which the poor people wanted to copy so they actually painted wood beads to look like gold set with stones and later these beads alone became popular. When Europeans reached the new world, they found that they could trade glass and semi-precious beads with the Native Americans. These beads were found all over the world by traders and travelers from Venice to Africa. So, beads started to poor into America and what started as the poorman's version of good and jewels soon became worth a lot on its own-that is when we started seeing all the amazing beadwork done by Native Americans. Beads have ever since been a big deal and used as currency which is why I think they ended up as sign of royalty and used in so many costumes, fancy clothing and finally in paintings. That's all I know!" --From Merle
"I did not know that about coral, and it certainly makes sense. However, it makes me wonder if the use of certain colors on a particular figure is also a painter's device? The red beads help define a fiery spirit and lush, dangerous sensuality as depicted in Sandys' Medea, and on Rossetti's Monna Vanna just to cite an example. " --From Lisa
"I had a professor tell us that the red/coral beads signified a fallen woman, but that doesn't explain their overall significance or popularity at the time."--From Tara
Tara's comment actually leads me into this example, which Stephanie Pina, the awesome webmistress of the Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood website, found for me. The artwork is "Thoughts of the Past" by John Spencer Stanhope, and I never noticed the "hippie beads" in this artwork, since they aren't being worn:
Tara, I think you hit the nail on the head for the symbolism of the beads, at least in this artwork. The painting depicts a fallen woman (what a shock...the Pre-Raphaelites so rarely painted those...) pondering her past during a moment of regret. The inclusion of red/coral beads is perfectly apt here.
More posts soon!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Century Studios
I featured Century Studios once before, but while perusing their blog for the first time in a while, I found a couple more images that just blew me away.
They are true stained glass artisans.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Of Changelings and Mermaids
First, apologies for my horrendous absence from The Beautiful Necessity! It seems time has slipped away from me lately, and all sorts of projects just aren't getting done.
Today, I wanted to share a post someone made on a LiveJournal group. I have her permission to share, and the rest of this post is quoted verbatim from her. All credit goes to LJ user daoinesidh.
If we recognize that there is a fictive element in all historical narrative, we would find in the theory of language and narrative itself the basis for a more subtle presentation of what historiography consists of than that which simply tells the student to go and 'find out the facts' and write them up in such a way as to tell 'what really happened'."
Hayden White, Tropics of Discourse
"... a beautiful romantic dream of something that never was, never will be - in a light better than any light that ever shone - in a land no one can define or remember, only desire - and the forms divinely beautiful ..."
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones (1833-1898) ... on the narrative structure of his paintings
"Study of a girl's head" (1883), Edward Coley Burne-Jones
In 1883, the Pre-Raphaelite artist, Edward Coley Burne-Jones spent a short vacation at Walden, the country estate leased by his solicitor, Sir George Lewis. During this trip, as well as numerous other visits to the Lewis' London home, the artist formed a particularly close bond with the Lady of the house, Elizabeth Lewis, whose salons were famous amongst the prominent writers and artists of the late Victorian period. An intellectual and art enthusiast, Lady Lewis was a formidable and witty conversationalist, and Burne-Jones was not alone in his admiration of her.
"Mrs. George Lewis (Elizabeth Eberstadt)" ... by John Singer Sargent, date unknown
For several years of their decades-long friendship, Burne-Jones and Lady Lewis maintained a very active correspondence, a huge portion of which is stored today at the Modern Manuscripts Room of the Bodleian Library in Oxford. From his frequent and rather whimsical complaints regarding his work and health, to the heartbreaking confidences he sent her regarding the illness and death of his longtime friend, William Morris, Burne-Jones' letters exhibit the profound level of trust and respect that he had for Lady Lewis. He also sent letters for a short period of time to the Lewis' daughter, Katie, which were published by Macmillan in 1925 under the title Letters to Katie.
The following letter is a wonderful example of the many illustrated notes that Burne-Jones sent to Lady Lewis and her daughter throughout these years. In it he states: "My Dear Mrs. Lewis ... You see how hard I am pitching into my work - plunging into it ..."
And indeed, he has already stepped through three canvases, and is on to his fourth. One can imagine the laughter this little sketch evoked, upon its arrival at the Lewis home.
In addition to these letters, the Bodeian also holds a number of other documents from Lady Lewis' estate, including a handwritten "memoir" that she composed for Philip Burne-Jones after his father's death. It is a lovely piece, full of sweet recollections of her many visits with Burne-Jones, including some very particular and interesting details about his stay at Walden in 1883. Here is a very magical bit of what I copied from the manuscript in 2005:
"When he was painting the Mermaid & staying at Walden we once went for a walk (in 83) through the woods of Fox Warren. As we passed one of the Keepers' cottages we saw seated on the rim of a hill a girl of about 12, a lovely creature with fair hair & gray eyes, slim & tall, dressed in a scarlet gown. She struck his fancy & we went near to try & get speech of her. But answer made she none & only looked up at him with a merry smile, not too shy to meet his eye but was much so to speak. She had bare feet & legs; he was as under a spell & when he came home at once made a drawing of her from recollection, just like her too; & he never altered it, but used it for the head of the Mermaid. After he spoke of her, said he felt sure she was a sprite & had come up from the hill. 'And oh! I do hope she will not come across my Phil some day and rob him of his peace of mind,' he would add."
The drawing at the beginning of this entry is one of many studies that Burne-Jones did of this changeling child, and the resemblance between her face and that of the mermaid in "The Depths of the Sea" (started in 1885 and completed in 1887) is striking ...
Lady Lewis finished her brief account of their experience at Fox Warren with the following recollection of an encounter that Burne-Jones had with the owner of Walden:
"Strange to say, he met Mrs. Charles Burdon (to whom the place belongs) at dinner at Ashley Cottage in 95 & asked her about the child. But she never knew or heard of a girl answering to the description & maintained, that the Keeper's own children were dark and plain. So he was more sure then ever, that she was a pixie."
An enchanting tale indeed; one can only hope that no historian will ever uncover any piece of evidence that might change Burne-Jones' vision of this mysterious fairy-like creature.
And who knows, perhaps the next time you happen to be strolling through the woods at Fox Warren, you will encounter an impish little sprite, wearing a red dress, barefoot no matter what the weather, and silently watching those who pass by. If you do, just give her a little smile, and then move on and stay quiet about it, for it is advisable not to disturb the inhabitants of Faerie, nor the peaceful rest of the artist who believed.
Short Bibliography:
'Recollections of Edward Burne-Jones' by Elizabeth, Lady Lewis, Dep. d. 840, Bodleian LIbrary
Letters from Edward Burne-Jones to Elizabeth, Lady Lewis, Dep. c. 832, Bodleian Library
Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones, Volumes 1 & 2 by Georgiana Burne-Jones, published by Macmillan and Co. Limited, 1904
Edward Burne-Jones by Penelope Fitzgerald, with forward by Christopher Wood, paperback edition published by Sutton Publishing, 2003
Today, I wanted to share a post someone made on a LiveJournal group. I have her permission to share, and the rest of this post is quoted verbatim from her. All credit goes to LJ user daoinesidh.
If we recognize that there is a fictive element in all historical narrative, we would find in the theory of language and narrative itself the basis for a more subtle presentation of what historiography consists of than that which simply tells the student to go and 'find out the facts' and write them up in such a way as to tell 'what really happened'."
Hayden White, Tropics of Discourse
"... a beautiful romantic dream of something that never was, never will be - in a light better than any light that ever shone - in a land no one can define or remember, only desire - and the forms divinely beautiful ..."
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones (1833-1898) ... on the narrative structure of his paintings
"Study of a girl's head" (1883), Edward Coley Burne-Jones
In 1883, the Pre-Raphaelite artist, Edward Coley Burne-Jones spent a short vacation at Walden, the country estate leased by his solicitor, Sir George Lewis. During this trip, as well as numerous other visits to the Lewis' London home, the artist formed a particularly close bond with the Lady of the house, Elizabeth Lewis, whose salons were famous amongst the prominent writers and artists of the late Victorian period. An intellectual and art enthusiast, Lady Lewis was a formidable and witty conversationalist, and Burne-Jones was not alone in his admiration of her."Mrs. George Lewis (Elizabeth Eberstadt)" ... by John Singer Sargent, date unknown
For several years of their decades-long friendship, Burne-Jones and Lady Lewis maintained a very active correspondence, a huge portion of which is stored today at the Modern Manuscripts Room of the Bodleian Library in Oxford. From his frequent and rather whimsical complaints regarding his work and health, to the heartbreaking confidences he sent her regarding the illness and death of his longtime friend, William Morris, Burne-Jones' letters exhibit the profound level of trust and respect that he had for Lady Lewis. He also sent letters for a short period of time to the Lewis' daughter, Katie, which were published by Macmillan in 1925 under the title Letters to Katie.The following letter is a wonderful example of the many illustrated notes that Burne-Jones sent to Lady Lewis and her daughter throughout these years. In it he states: "My Dear Mrs. Lewis ... You see how hard I am pitching into my work - plunging into it ..."
And indeed, he has already stepped through three canvases, and is on to his fourth. One can imagine the laughter this little sketch evoked, upon its arrival at the Lewis home.In addition to these letters, the Bodeian also holds a number of other documents from Lady Lewis' estate, including a handwritten "memoir" that she composed for Philip Burne-Jones after his father's death. It is a lovely piece, full of sweet recollections of her many visits with Burne-Jones, including some very particular and interesting details about his stay at Walden in 1883. Here is a very magical bit of what I copied from the manuscript in 2005:
"When he was painting the Mermaid & staying at Walden we once went for a walk (in 83) through the woods of Fox Warren. As we passed one of the Keepers' cottages we saw seated on the rim of a hill a girl of about 12, a lovely creature with fair hair & gray eyes, slim & tall, dressed in a scarlet gown. She struck his fancy & we went near to try & get speech of her. But answer made she none & only looked up at him with a merry smile, not too shy to meet his eye but was much so to speak. She had bare feet & legs; he was as under a spell & when he came home at once made a drawing of her from recollection, just like her too; & he never altered it, but used it for the head of the Mermaid. After he spoke of her, said he felt sure she was a sprite & had come up from the hill. 'And oh! I do hope she will not come across my Phil some day and rob him of his peace of mind,' he would add."
The drawing at the beginning of this entry is one of many studies that Burne-Jones did of this changeling child, and the resemblance between her face and that of the mermaid in "The Depths of the Sea" (started in 1885 and completed in 1887) is striking ...
Lady Lewis finished her brief account of their experience at Fox Warren with the following recollection of an encounter that Burne-Jones had with the owner of Walden:"Strange to say, he met Mrs. Charles Burdon (to whom the place belongs) at dinner at Ashley Cottage in 95 & asked her about the child. But she never knew or heard of a girl answering to the description & maintained, that the Keeper's own children were dark and plain. So he was more sure then ever, that she was a pixie."
An enchanting tale indeed; one can only hope that no historian will ever uncover any piece of evidence that might change Burne-Jones' vision of this mysterious fairy-like creature.
And who knows, perhaps the next time you happen to be strolling through the woods at Fox Warren, you will encounter an impish little sprite, wearing a red dress, barefoot no matter what the weather, and silently watching those who pass by. If you do, just give her a little smile, and then move on and stay quiet about it, for it is advisable not to disturb the inhabitants of Faerie, nor the peaceful rest of the artist who believed.
Short Bibliography:
'Recollections of Edward Burne-Jones' by Elizabeth, Lady Lewis, Dep. d. 840, Bodleian LIbrary
Letters from Edward Burne-Jones to Elizabeth, Lady Lewis, Dep. c. 832, Bodleian Library
Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones, Volumes 1 & 2 by Georgiana Burne-Jones, published by Macmillan and Co. Limited, 1904
Edward Burne-Jones by Penelope Fitzgerald, with forward by Christopher Wood, paperback edition published by Sutton Publishing, 2003
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Desperate Romantics: A Post-Finale Review
In the last episode of the Desperate Romantics miniseries (episode 6), one of the first scenes features the Brotherhood all gathered together in Millais' elegantly decorated new living room. At one point, his sweet and loving wife Effie suggests something, and he agrees with her, calling her a sweet pet name. The name? Wombat.
"Use my nickname, will you, Millais?"
"Use my nickname, will you, Millais?"It is a small moment...one that would probably be glossed over by most viewers. But to me it is emblematic of the strange series that was Desperate Romantics. "Wait, what?" I thought to myself. "Wombat? That was Rossetti's pet...and if anyone should be saying it it's Rossetti, to William Morris, after whom he named his pet." Like many other details in Desperate Romantics, it isn't that things absolutely could never have happened that way, just more that it causes a minor headscratching confusion, and a question of "why?" The show in some ways seems to bob along...kind of like the South Park episode in which manatees take idea balls and randomly select them to create an episode of Family Guy.
Key words: Wombat, Effie, Ruskin, prostitute, sex, Rossetti, sex, Laudanum, Lizzie Siddal, sex, poetry, drinking, sex, and oh yes...we almost forgot...Art.
For this reason, many of us who are obsessed with the Pre-Raphaelites and are in the habit of writing about them have absolutely lambasted the series, and I personally know several people who gave up on it alltogether. After all, many of the details that were changed in the series seem to have been changed for absolutely random reasons. Why, for example, was it so much better for Rossetti to meet Jane Morris as a waitress in a coffee shop (and have her selling flowers at the theater where she met William Morris, instead of attending the play itself)? Why did they have Morris and Edward Burne-Jones endear themselves to Rossetti by saving a mural he painted without an undercoat on a church wall, instead of having them all working together on the Oxford hall like really happened? Why have everything happen so speedily, instead of flashing forward in time as they could have easily done? (For instance, Rossetti retrieves his poems...thrown in on top of Lizzie's coffin instead of inside...seemingly the night after she's buried, when the reality of years passing would have added to the drama of the moment.)
The reality of the Pre-Raphaelties' lives were so astounding, why this need for the changes when they are so absolutely unnecessary, and sometimes actually seem less astounding than the real stories? Not to mention the two biggest flaws I found in the program myself...the shoving under the carpet of all implications of pedophilia with Ruskin (Rossetti accuses him of these proclivities in the last episode, and Ruskin instead comes off like a hero in his resulting speech, even though he never outright denies his leanings), and the absolute oafishness with which William Morris is portrayed (truly...he and Burne-Jones could be extras in a Three Stooges episode, and Topsy himself is given a speech impediment that makes him as much comic relief as Elmer Fudd). The latter was by far my biggest disappointment in the series.
However, and this is a big however, I have to admit something: I liked Desperate Romantics. Yes, you heard me...I liked it. Despite its flaws, and they are many, it takes the Pre-Raphaelites and makes their frivolity, their radical thinking, and their fondness for each other despite many hurts and hardships, and updates it for a modern audience to understand. No, Rossetti never squatted in a greenhouse room in someone else's house, and Lizzie never walked around wearing clothes more suited for the 1920s. And there was no such character as Fred, but the painful story arc he undergoes...both loving and admiring Rossetti, and hating him for taking what he most loved...is one that plays over and over again among the Brotherhood. William Morris himself I'm sure struggled with such contrary emotions toward Rossetti.
And so, I want to propose two cardinal ways in which the viewer educated in P.R.B. history can acknowledge the radical changes in the tale, and still approach the miniseries with enjoyment as I have.
#1: Desperate Romantics is a three-dimensional retelling of the caricatures the Pre-Raphaelites made of each other, and those made of them by contemporary publications like Punch Magazine. It is not a documentary.
Each character in D.R. is a bit more like their cartoon counterparts, instead of the reality. William Morris was drawn big and bumbling in Rossetti and Burne-Jones' drawings of him, so these are the characteristics that are emphasized in the show. Rossetti was teased for his acumen with the women, so this is what they focus on. Rossetti is the sexy flirty one, Millais is the innocent, "Maniac" Holman-Hunt struggles to reconcile his religious leanings with his lusts. Which brings me to...
#2: Each character in Desperate Romantics is their art.
I mentioned this once before in passing. Pre-Raphaelite art was full of symbolism. In this way, each character in Desperate Romantics is more a symbol of himself than an exact reenactment. The series seems to take a little of each character's personality from historic fact, and a large portion of it from the art they created.
Rossetti created sensual portraits of women (this is not all he painted, but this is what he's best known for), and therefore combining this with the stories of his affairs with Jane Morris and Fanny Cornforth, they created the Rossetti character for the miniseries. Millais created exact, intricately detailed and stunningly realistic art, and later moved on to more saccharine shlock art like Bubbles. Therefore the Millais of Desperate Romantics is prim, detail-oriented and tidy, and after his marriage, quite saccharine. (In the end of the series, however, he is clearly the only one who gets a happily ever after...an observation I've also made about the real Millais, and well-shown in the series) Holman-Hunt's two most famous artworks were about Christ and prostitution, respectively, and therefore combining those artworks with the story of his trips to the Holy Land, a character struggling against holy and lustful thoughts was created. Each character is a combination of not only his real life personality, but his art, and in that regard, the critics who say that Desperate Romantics is 97% sex and only 3% art can be at least partially refuted, as each of the Brotherhood in the miniseries is an embodiment of their canvases as well as their historic characters.
Rossetti created sensual portraits of women (this is not all he painted, but this is what he's best known for), and therefore combining this with the stories of his affairs with Jane Morris and Fanny Cornforth, they created the Rossetti character for the miniseries. Millais created exact, intricately detailed and stunningly realistic art, and later moved on to more saccharine shlock art like Bubbles. Therefore the Millais of Desperate Romantics is prim, detail-oriented and tidy, and after his marriage, quite saccharine. (In the end of the series, however, he is clearly the only one who gets a happily ever after...an observation I've also made about the real Millais, and well-shown in the series) Holman-Hunt's two most famous artworks were about Christ and prostitution, respectively, and therefore combining those artworks with the story of his trips to the Holy Land, a character struggling against holy and lustful thoughts was created. Each character is a combination of not only his real life personality, but his art, and in that regard, the critics who say that Desperate Romantics is 97% sex and only 3% art can be at least partially refuted, as each of the Brotherhood in the miniseries is an embodiment of their canvases as well as their historic characters.
So, overall, I have to remind you...if you see Desperate Romantics as a flawed piece of history, you will be discontent with it. Absolutely, the show gets the facts wrong time and time again. But if you see it as a hazy mirror held up to the Brotherhood, and attempting to recreate the mood of these famous Victorian artists, it can be much better enjoyed on its own merit. And hopefully the young admirers of Ophelia, Bocca Baciata, and other such artworks will dig further into the stories behind these remarkable men, and will come across resources detailing their true history as well. Who knows...they might even find it here.
Click all pictures to see larger.
Poor Ned and Topsy, so misrepresented in the miniseries.
William Morris seems to catch Rossetti and Jane in mischief, but in fact only wants to rearrange the furniture. Oh that silly William Morris!
Rose La Touche tells Rossetti exactly what she thinks of him.
Rossetti hard at work on a portrait of Jane Morris
Lizzie, heartbroken both by Rossetti, and by Ruskin's abandonment of her art, steps into the Laudanum bottle more frequently.
Annie Miller pays Holman-Hunt a visit with a proposition, but not the one he is hoping for.
Lizzie and Rossetti's heartbreaking final argument in the streets of London.
He arrives home to find her dead.
And begins to paint her memoriam.
Lizzie, her hair spread out in her coffin.
A really horrendous artist's rendition of Beata Beatrix (whoever did the artwork for the miniseries, I mean, not the original)
A beautiful moment when Rossetti steps back to gaze on the finished Beata Beatrix, and feels Lizzie is there with him.
Rossetti throws his poems in with Lizzie's casket
And apparently Ned and Topsy help him retrieve them later that same night.
The series was supposedly about the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, but it is truly the Sisterhood who shine brightest. Specifically, the break-out star of the series is by far Lizzie Siddal, portrayed absolutely beautifully and with amazing nuance. A five star performance.
The members of the Sisterhood...
Lizzie Siddal
Annie Miller
Jane Morris...sadly quite two-dimensional in the series. Why doesn't she ever get her due?
and Fanny Cornforth
Click all pictures to see larger.
Poor Ned and Topsy, so misrepresented in the miniseries.
William Morris seems to catch Rossetti and Jane in mischief, but in fact only wants to rearrange the furniture. Oh that silly William Morris!
Rose La Touche tells Rossetti exactly what she thinks of him.
Rossetti hard at work on a portrait of Jane Morris
Lizzie, heartbroken both by Rossetti, and by Ruskin's abandonment of her art, steps into the Laudanum bottle more frequently.
Annie Miller pays Holman-Hunt a visit with a proposition, but not the one he is hoping for.
Lizzie and Rossetti's heartbreaking final argument in the streets of London.
He arrives home to find her dead.
And begins to paint her memoriam.
Lizzie, her hair spread out in her coffin.
A really horrendous artist's rendition of Beata Beatrix (whoever did the artwork for the miniseries, I mean, not the original)
A beautiful moment when Rossetti steps back to gaze on the finished Beata Beatrix, and feels Lizzie is there with him.
Rossetti throws his poems in with Lizzie's casket
And apparently Ned and Topsy help him retrieve them later that same night.The series was supposedly about the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, but it is truly the Sisterhood who shine brightest. Specifically, the break-out star of the series is by far Lizzie Siddal, portrayed absolutely beautifully and with amazing nuance. A five star performance.
The members of the Sisterhood...
Lizzie Siddal
Annie Miller
Jane Morris...sadly quite two-dimensional in the series. Why doesn't she ever get her due?
and Fanny CornforthMonday, August 24, 2009
Arthur Hughes: A Human Good Artist
Of course everyone here knows I admire the work of Arthur Hughes. His near photographic realism in fabrics and plants is breathtaking, and he exhibits a fondness for my favorite color in his works. But I just finished looking through the only (that I know of) book devoted solely to his art, and I have to admit...the guy has flaws too. He's a genius, but looking through an entire catalog of his work makes one certain thing apparent: he and proportion were not always friends.
I've noticed it before when looking at his famous artwork April Love. For the longest time, I peered intently at reproductions of the work, trying to figure out what was going on behind the main figure. A man was back there, I had read in descriptions of the work, but I could hardly believe it...the rounded curve I saw behind her left arm was larger than her own head, and yet was meant to be drawn further behind her in perspective. That couldn't be a man's head, could it? It's huge!
Well, yes, it could. After looking at all of the paintings in the book, I started to notice strange features in certain paintings. Some were executed flawlessly, yes, but others had utterly perplexing areas of warped proportion. A child's head in the background swollen larger than the girl in the foreground.
(This to me is the worst culprit. What in the world did the boy on the right eat to have a head almost twice the size of the girl on the right??)
Two adults strolling arm in arm with hands the tiny size of children.
Hi there, teeny tiny hand!
Look at the size of the middle girl's head compared to her arm and hand!
These areas of odd proportion would have been easy to glide over when viewed individually, but when I saw them all together in one bound set of papers, I was forced to admit that I was seeing an artist who was human...who was flawed...who was learning. And here I come to my point...which is that Arthur Hughes is still a genius artist. His work still transcends time (even if some of it, admittedly, was a bit saccharine even for its day). To view his mistakes is comforting, in some way, like seeing a page Keats might have written with words crossed out on it, crumpled from frustration. It is a timeless record of his humanity, a reminder to all of us who strive in any of the arts that there is always room for improvement. Even if we paint purple velvet like a pro.
(This to me is the worst culprit. What in the world did the boy on the right eat to have a head almost twice the size of the girl on the right??)Two adults strolling arm in arm with hands the tiny size of children.
Hi there, teeny tiny hand!
Look at the size of the middle girl's head compared to her arm and hand!
These areas of odd proportion would have been easy to glide over when viewed individually, but when I saw them all together in one bound set of papers, I was forced to admit that I was seeing an artist who was human...who was flawed...who was learning. And here I come to my point...which is that Arthur Hughes is still a genius artist. His work still transcends time (even if some of it, admittedly, was a bit saccharine even for its day). To view his mistakes is comforting, in some way, like seeing a page Keats might have written with words crossed out on it, crumpled from frustration. It is a timeless record of his humanity, a reminder to all of us who strive in any of the arts that there is always room for improvement. Even if we paint purple velvet like a pro.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Legend of the Seeker
Many thanks to Aurora, who pointed out to me that in the 7th episode of Legend of the Seeker, season 1, a character can be seen throughout the episode posed like Circe Invidiosa. Beautiful!
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