May, 2021 - Of Art and Wine

Klee’s Colorful Operatic Painting, and Tunisian Wine from Cap Bon.

Senecio by Paul Klee, 1922. Kunstmuseum in Basel, Switzerland. Click image to magnify.

Sometimes referred to by an alternative title, Head of a Man Going Senile, this painting, more commonly known as Senecio, was done by Swiss-German artist, Paul Klee, as a bit of humor. Supposedly it is a portrait of an artist-performer created by Klee to represent the shifting relationship between art, illusion, and drama. In it, however, one can also see Klee’s response to the African art that had so captured Picasso, Braque, and others in the early 20th century. It focuses on geometric shapes, a flat appearance, and the use of eye-catching color. Much has been made of the treatment of the eyebrows, where the right one is a semi-circle in black, while the left is a triangle of white sitting quizzically like a small pyramid over the left eye. The vibrant colors range from soft pink for the jowls, to strong red eye balls, and on to a range of oranges and yellows to complete the hairless head. Senecio is actually the name of a plant from the Daisy family. The name in Latin means “Old Man.”

Paul Klee (1879-1940) came by his humor, his love of color, and his appreciation for African art through a background of music. His father, who was a music teacher, was proud to have a son who was so accomplished as a violinist that he was invited to perform with the local music association (Bern, Switzerland) at the age of 11. His parents saw a future for him in music, but alas, as a young man, he rebelled against that and headed toward the plastic arts. As an artist he was known to draw very well though his early works lacked a sense of color.

Hammamet with its Mosque by Paul Klee, 1914 metmuseum.org

Klee did music and drawing in his years after having studied art in Munich. He joined with painters Franz Marc and Vassily Kandinsky in the Blue Rider (Blaue Reiter) movement in 1911. He was exposed to Cubism and abstract art by Robert Delaunay in 1914. However, it was his trip to Tunisia in 1914 that opened his soul to color. The brilliant light of the Tunisian sun on the wonderfully colored buildings and the blue waters of the Mediteranean inspired him to search through his many talents to reach a goal, which he stated as creating a style that connected drawing to the realm of color. In this he was not unlike another famous artist influenced by the colors of a city on the sea. Tintoretto, whose world was Venice, kept in his studio a sign saying, “The drawing of Michelangelo and the color of Titian” as a reminder of his desire to master both.

Klee is associated with a number of early 20th century movements. He participated in Expressionism, Cubism, Surrealism, and Futurism, working with oil paint, watercolor, ink, pastel, and etching, all the while developing his mastery of tonality and color. Take a look at Black Columns in a Landscape, 1919.

Black Columns in a Landscape by Paul Klee, 1919 metmuseum.org Click image to magnify.

This is a picture of a park that sits on the banks of the River Isar in Munich, Germany. Klee’s painting is in watercolor, a perfect choice of medium for capturing delicate tonal variations in color. The use of warm pinks, cool blues, and soft earthy browns, yellows and green give the artist a range of colors to represent the elements in the park and city, with the blue of the sky and the river to partially surround the images. The black and brown columns, but especially the black ones, stand as abstract representations of buildings, but are also a good counterpoint to the soft pastel colors.

This painting probably started as Klee normally did, with a dot or a doodle. He laughingly called this approach what happens when you “take a line for a walk.” It is really a type of musical score, only instead of black music notes, it uses a crescent moon, stars, plants, and symbols to create the references to Bach’s fugues. Bach was known as the master of counterpoint in his musical compositions. Here we see Klee balancing dark and light in a similar way. The Austrian poet Rainier Maria Rilke wrote in 1921 that he guessed, “Klee was a violinist because his drawings often seemed transcriptions of music.”

In 1920, Paul Klee became a professor at the famous Bauhaus (1919-1933), a German school established by architect Walter Gropius with the idea of combining crafts and fine arts to create work that was elegant yet practical, a combination of aesthetics and function. That school became a major force in modern architecture and design, and it was where Paul Klee continued his exploration of color theory, shown in his development of the color wheel.

Paul Klee Color Wheel Notes from The Notebooks of Paul Klee – the Thinking Eye monoskop.org Click image to magnify.

Kelly Richman-Abdou has a wonderful piece at My Modern Met on Paul Klee, as a music-inspired artist mymodernmet.com in which she quotes from a work called Bauhaus 100 saying Klee, “developed his own color theory based on a six-part rainbow shaped into a color wheel,” Bauhaus100 explains. “He placed the complementary colors in relation to movements that interact with one another, which shows this theory is based on dynamic transitions.” Richman-Abdou goes on to explain how music played a key role in the use of color and the avant-garde direction that abstract art took. (Click the link above for the article.)

Polyphony by Paul Klee, 1932 Kunstmuseum Basel, Switzerland. Click image to magnify.

It is said that Klee could “improvise freely on a keyboard of colors.” Here in this pointillist style piece, Klee expresses in color harmonies the definition of polyphony, which is the blending of different melodies and harmonizing them with one another. It shows in physical representation his color theory, which has complimentary colors making dynamic transitions from one to another. Klee created a number of works known as his Operatic Series, which were based on works such as Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffman, Mozart’s Don Giovanni, and J.S. Bach’s fugues.

His lectures at Bauhaus even included notes with musical references as part of the script. His work, Cooling in the Gardens of the Torrid Zone (seen here on the left) is a great example of a musical drawing. For an excellent look at Klee’s relationship with music and painting, Ursula Rehn-Wolfman’s article “Paul Klee – Painting and Music” is an great overview of his career and its influences, interlude.hk.

Paul Klee left Germany after the Bauhaus was forced to close in 1933 because the Nazi government felt its work to be communist. Klee’s work was seen by the Nazis as degenerate, so he left Germany for Switzerland. Even in Switzerland where he was born, he did not receive his citizenship (yes, even those born there must apply for citizenship) until after his death because his works were looked upon with cultural suspicion. Six days after his death in 1940 from schleroderma, a debilitating wasting disease, the Swiss govenment granted him citizenship. Klee left behind a body of some 9,000 pieces of art work, proving indeed that what he had claimed about himself after his visit to Tunisia was true. “Color and I are one. I am a painter.”

Articles used for this blogpost are from the Interlude website article, “Paul Klee-Painting and Music” by Ursula Rehn Wolfman at interlude.hk and “How Music Played a Pivotal Role in the Colorful Avant-Garde Direction of Modern Art,” by Kelly Richman-Abdou on My Modern Met at mymodernmet.com

Paintings by Klee are in public domain with several offered by the Metropolitan Museum in New York as open source items.

Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com or her author page at amazon.com and her art at Vernelle Art Boutique vernellestudio.com

Tunisian Wine from Cap Bon

Ruins of Carthage from Planetware planetware.com article by Jess Lee Click image to magnify.

Tunisia and wine? Yes, and since early times. One must remember that the Carthaginians, whose capital and home base was on the north coast of Tunisia, once ruled the seas and the trade in the western Mediterranean. They transported goods all over that area, and among the goods they shipped were great quantities of wine. When the Romans, finally after many battles, conquered Carthage and set out to destroy it forever, including sowing salt into its farmlands and burning its libraries, there was one 26 volume work that was spared. That was the work on agriculture by a writer known as Mago (or Magon), the Father of Farming. It covered farming techniques from North Africa to Lebanon and included the wisdom of both the native Berber farmers and the ancient Phoenicians. It substantially raised the level of Roman viticulture.

In modern times, wine production in Tunisia may come as a surprise since one thinks of Tunisia as a Muslim country, therefore, dry in terms of alcohol. The country does battle with this since Islam does forbid alcoholic drinks. However, Tunisia still moves toward being a modern country, so alcohol is not prohibited. However, obtaining it may lead one to either very expensive luxury hotels and restaurants or rather seedy, disreputable bars. The fact still remains that Tunisia has a ancient history of wine making and even with the loss of some of the techniques and resources brought by former French colonists, Tunisia’s wine industry continues to continue.

Harvesting grapes from Neferis Vineyard in Cap Bon, Tunisia Photo credit AFP globaltimes.cn

While one thinks of Tunisia as being the Sahara Desert, its northern coastal region has a perfect climate for viticulture. Cap Bon is the place where 80% of the wine from Tunisia is produced. Les Vignerons de Cartage Vieux Magon or Old Magon from the Winemakers of Carthage is in fact the name of a best-selling wine. Les Vignerons de Cartage is the cooperative of wine produces that control about 2/3s of the lands used for growing grapes in the Cap Bon region of Tunisia. In total there are around 80,000 acres of vineyards in Cap Bon, which as its name suggests is a good area. This northern region which faces the sea has the climate not dissimilar to that of southern France in Provence and Languedoc. The grapes grown are the same as those in France, Grenach, Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot, along with that favorite of white grapes, Chardonnay.

The main focus remains to be the reds. However, with that similar climate to southern France, Tunisia also produces a respectable rosé. The Vieux Magon mentioned above from Les Vignerons de Cartage has an AOC listing as Mornag Grand Cru and is a white wine that runs around $16.00 per bottle.

In recent years, post the Arab Spring, Tunisia has begun to focus on wine tourism. In an effort to create a complete tourist experience, the vintners have begun to work with local bed and breakfast owners near the ancient ruins of Dougga to offer package tours of these impressive ruins and the nearby vineyards with tastings of their wines. The head of the Vignerons (Winemakers) see this type of tourism as the future of this region and a way to get Tunisian wines better known. We can only hope for their great success.

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©marjorie vernelle 2021

Coming Soon: The Riviera’s Painter of Indecisive Colors and Côte de Provence Wines.

Dining Room on the Garden by Pierre Bonnard, 1923. Guggenheim Museum, New York City, NY

Yes, the French Riviera is beautiful, and Pierre Bonnard’s work will not let anyone forget that. Beauty and color in ever beneficient sunlight. Add a bit of Côte de Provence wine, and one is close to paradise.

Goya’s Maja, the Duchess of Alba, and Sherry from Andalucia

The Clothed Maja, by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes 1798-1805 Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain. museodelprado.es Click to magnify.

This painting seems rather tame for our day, though the look in the model’s eye has a bit of “come hither” to it. Many art historians propose Manuel de Godoy, 18th century Spain’s Prime Minister for King Charles IV, as the man who commissioned this work of his then mistress, Pepita Tudó. Given the dates of the work and the face of the woman, though not exactly Pepita but passable, that assumption seems to fit. However, there has always been a bit of a problem sustaining that theory completely when comparing this later work with the original maja, The Naked Maja, done between 1797-1800. For a good view of The Naked Maja, I shall send you to the Museo del Prado web page on that painting museodelprado.es.

While the face is the same and again not completely identifiable, the body of the naked version is smaller. The pose is relatively the same, but of course, the frontal nudity plus the direct gaze of the model were indeed shocking for that time. Frontal nudity was for those loose-living Venetians (Titian’s Venus of Urbino, 1534) and even still caused pearl clutching in 1863 when Manet’s Olympia was shown. Here is where the controversy lies. The heads of the majas seem to have been refashioned. Some say it was because Godoy married another woman, so wanted to hide the face of his former mistress. However, since the naked version was painted earlier, perhaps in 1797 during Goya’s stay at the estate of the Duchess of Alba, it is also speculated that the duchess had the face changed to conceal her identity. Years later in 1815, the Spanish Inquisition wanted to get to the bottom of the source of these naughty commissions, so Goya was called before the Inquisitors to tell all. However, his reply is unknown.

Self-portrait of Goya 1800-1801 and Portrait of Maria Cayetana de Silva, the Duchess of Alba by Guillermo Ducker, 1805

So here they are, the artist and his most famous model, María Cayetana de Silva, Duquesa de Alba. Seeing them posed here in respectable postures, one still feels a bit uneasy. The duchess’ hair, which was quite a mane during her lifetime, is painted here with a few proper curls on top of the head and long uncurled straggles falling down her neck. This contrast continues with the tight-lipped mouth in relationship to the direct penetrating stare of the eyes. It looks as though she is holding back something. Goya gives us a side-eye, as if to say that he knows more than he will tell, or perhaps that he is up to something. Certainly that was probably the case, when in 1796, he left his wife behind in Madrid to go to the far southern area of Spain, Andalucía, to the Sanlúcar estate of the then newly widowed duchess.

Goya had already painted this piece, The White Duchess, before his visit to Sanlúcar. The duchess was known to circulate through many levels of society, including visiting the studio of Goya from whom she commissioned art. Even before he did this full-length portrait, she had come by his studio one day to have him paint her face. Goya is quoted as saying, “…I certainly enjoyed it more than painting on canvas, and I still have to do a full-length portrait of her.” (Whatever was he implying?) Known as one of the most beautiful women in Spain, one can imagine that he did enjoy looking so closely at her and having her lovely face in his hands.

For a closer view of this painting and the comments made by Goya, go to eeweems.com for “Goya: White Duchess.”

The Black Duchess by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, 1797.

This painting shows the duchess in mourning, as her husband, a cousin to whom she had been married when she was 11 years old, had just died. However, her mourning outfit has a tale to tell also. Her dress is that of the flamboyant young women of the streets of Madrid, known as majas, a word that sometimes stood in for mistresses. The duchess, who was an only child, had always had a willfull nature and one not to be hindered by the high status coming from her title and extreme wealth. She was known to disquise herself in one of these maja outfits to go out among the ordinary people and become just someone in the crowd.

However, there is more to this picture. One sees the duchess pointing down to the ground at her feet. This part of the painting had been painted over, but in a cleaning of the painting in the 20th century, writing was revealed. She is pointing to words, traced in the sand, that say, “Solo Goya” or Only Goya. As well, the two rings she wears on the forefinger and middle finger of her right hand are inscribed with the names Alba and Goya. This painting was done in 1797, a date also given for The Naked Maja, and was painted during the time that Goya spent at Sanlúcar consoling the widow. It is obvious that The Black Duchess held special meaning for Goya since he kept the painting with him right up until his death in Bordeaux, France, in 1828.

The Duchess of Alba and La Beata and La Beata with Children, both 1795 by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes. museodelprado.es

The two pieces above show that Goya had intimate knowledge of the household of the Duchess even before his long stay at Sanlúcar (1796-1797). In these two paintings we see the duchess’ dueña (an older woman chaperon) who was so religious she was called La Beata (the Blessed or the Pious One). The old lady is having the bejesus scared out of her by the duchess in one view. In the other, La Beata is holding on to someone for dear life as the duchess’ adopted daughter, María de la Luz, and a little playmate tug at her skirttails. (María de la Luz, whose parents had been slaves, was the only child of the duchess and inherited much of her adoptive mother’s personal wealth. While the family estates and titles went to other members of the Alba clan, María de la Luz and the duchess’ servants received generous amounts of money upon the duchess’ death.)

This all brings us back to who modeled for The Naked Maja. Goya may not have told anything noteworthy to the Holy Inquisition, hence the lack of any recorded response. However, there has been enough uncertainty circulating about that first painting, the naked one, to keep suspicions alive about the model being the duchess herself. There are other tales of waywardness involving the duchess and her relationship with Manuel de Godoy, who seems to have also been Queen María Teresa’s lover (see Goya’s painting of the Spanish royal family in 1800-1801, in which the face of the young infante (prince) bears a remarkable resemblance to that of Godoy museodelprado.es). One legend says that Queen María Teresa ordered Godoy to poison the duchess after Alba insulted the queen by arriving at the palace with her female entourage all wearing copies of a necklace that the queen was wearing the original of. The duchess died supposedly of tuberculosis in 1802 at the age of 40. The suddenness of it, though, seemed mysterious, hence the rumors of poison. This rumor was proved wrong when the duchess’ body was exhumed and tested in the 1940s, showing that she died of meningitis. The idea of poison lingered, however, and got incorporated in the 1958 movie about Goya and the duchess, The Naked Maja.

While the movie is good ’50s kitch (I must say that Ava Gardner does the duchess’ beauty justice), I have a more personal reaction to the film. One scene was particularly memorable because it had the royal court coming to see their court painter’s new creation for the royal chapel of San Antonio de la Florida. While all the swells were gathered below, they looked up into the cupola to see the saint dressed in humble brown ministering to the poor, some of whom were looking down on the wealthy gathered there below. I thought of that scene a few years ago when visiting the chapel in Madrid, along with my classmates and our art history teacher from Avignon, France. What a rabble-rouser Goya was, and the Duchess of Alba along with him. She must have been there when the court got the shock of looking up to see all those poor people up there, above them. However, as time passes, things fall into place, and someone in the Spanish government in the late 1800s had the wisdom to bring Goya’s remains back from France, and bury them there in San Antonio de la Florida, the scene of some of his great paintings, and one of his great controversies. How perfect. Eso es!

The cupola at San Antionio de las Florida in Madrid, Spain by Goya, 1798. Click to magnify.

Paintings used in this article are in public domain. For more information on the paintings, follow the links given.

Other sources include “Goya: The White Duchess” see eeweems.com link above, and franciscogoya.com/naked-maja.jsp

For more on the life of Francisco Goya, visit The Art Blog at VernelleStudio.com for “Goya, the Other Spanish Bad Boy.”

Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor, and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com or her author page at amazon.com and her art at Vernelle Art Boutique vernellestudio.com.

The Sherry of Al-Andaluz (Andalucía)

The Montilla-Moriles wine region in Andalucia casaolea.com

The Spanish legend goes that Santa Lucía was sent off on a mission that led her to this part of Spain with the commanding words, “Anda Lucía!” or “Go forth, Lucía!” which then became the name of this land. Actually it comes from the Arabic version of a name the Vandals gave to southern Spain, Vandalusia, the Land of the Vandals. Al-Andalus was the Arabic used for the regions of Spain ruled by the Moors, descendants of that combination of Islamic warriors (Arab, North African, and Black African) who invaded Spain in 711 CE. Now it refers to a smaller region in the southwestern part of Spain and is known for its fine wine and fine foods.

The Montilla-Moriles region is particularly famous for its fortified dessert wines, most particularly sherry, though it also produces a fine Moscato and Moscato d’Asti. Sherry is a fortified wine made from white grapes grown in and around the city of Jerez in Spain, but in other parts of Andalucía as well. Jerez is southwest of the Montilla-Moriles region, which is in the most northernly part of Andalucía close to Córdoba. Spain is famous for its red wines from La Rioja but also for its sherry. While sherry is not as popular these days as it was in earlier times, the history of its development is long. The Phoenicians brought viticulture to southern Spain about 3,000 years ago. The Romans took that over 2,200 years ago. However, it was the Moorish invasion that brought with it the use a the distillation process that produced both brandy and fortified wine. The word sherry comes from the Moorish name for a village called Sherish. However, the name is also associated with the town of Jerez.

Sherry bottles. Photo credit to sherrynotes.com

If you have been reading the posts on Of Art and Wine for a while, you know that any wine with an ancient past has a lot of variations that have been skillfully developed over the centuries. The same is true of sherry. While there are three grapes used in the making of sherry, the Palomino, the Pedro Ximénez, and the Moscatel, there must also be consideration for the special qualities of the terroir and micro-climates that can affect the taste of the wine, thus creating multiple versions of it. Sherrynotes.com does an excellent job of taking one through all these types and giving the significant features of each. I shall present two of them below.

Sherry was extremely popular in Victorian times. One of the most famous was Amontillado. Made from the Palomino grape, it can range in color from a deep golden to a deep amber. It even can come varigated (see the photo below). It is a dry wine with a complex blend of aromas, including hazel nuts, aromatic herbs and even dark tobacco. As you have probably guessed by now, Amontillado comes from Montilla, Spain. Of course, we know it is highly prized, just remember Edgar Allen Poe’s story, “A Casque of Amontillado.”

Amontillado showing off its varigated tones of gold. Photo credit to allwinesofeurope.com

Sanlúcar de Barrameda, the area where Goya visited the Duchess of Alba on her estate, is known for making a sea-scented sherry called Manzanilla. Sanlúcar de Barrameda sits on the Atlantic coast, and its lands run east toward the Guadaquivir river. It is a unique micro-climate that gives a touch of salt to the flavor of this sherry. Manzanilla also makes a wonderful cocktail. The article, “The Veil of Sanlucar” gives the recipe, click here sherry.wine. Being a product influenced by the sea, Manzanilla quite naturally goes well with fish and seafood dishes. Since we are speaking of Spain, seafood paella comes to mind immediately. There are many recipes for this traditional Spanish dish, but in the recipe given on againstallgrain.com, Danielle Walker throws in everything. You can add the sherry.

Paella with seafood and meat by Danielle Walker. Photo credit to againsallgrain.com

If one is going to be eating tapas, those wonderful little appetizers full of cheese, olives, ham, mushrooms, etc., then follow the guidance of Fiona Beckett when she advises to consume those tapas with a good sherry. See the 6 wines she recommends at matchingfoodandwine.com.

Tapas mix and pinchos food from Spain recipes also pintxos on a white wood board (Free photo from istock.com, credit to Getty Images.)

Whether one is going to Spain or just wanting to watch that old movie, The Naked Maja, plan to enjoy some of the delicious treats that come from the area around where the Duchess of Alba lived. Raise a glass of Manzanilla to her memory and thank Goya for capturing that period in Spanish history so well. Olé!

Coming soon: Klee’s Colorful Operatic Painting and Tunisian Wine from the Vineyards of Cap Bon.

Paul Klee participated in many of the early 20th century’s art movements. Though he received art training in Munich, Germany, it was when he went to Tunisia in 1914 that his sense of color was sparked by the amazing light he found there. Klee’s transformation and his experiences in Tunisia influenced not only his art but that of so many others. Then, there is also Tunisia’s history of wine making, which is a very long one, dating back some 3,000 years.