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The Paintings of Joaquín Sorolla, plus Valencia’s Unsung Bobal Grape.

Strolling Along the Beach by Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida, 1909. Sorolla Museum, Madrid, Spain.

Well, nothing like a lovely day at the beach, and here Joaquín Sorolla (1863-1923), the Spanish Master of Light, as proclaimed by the National Gallery of London in its 2019 exhibition of the artist’s work, makes an elegant early 20th century fashion statement as well. The two women, Sorolla’s wife and his daughter, walk so lightly on the sands that they leave no footprints. Visions they are indeed as they pass over the sands, leaning gently into the breeze that elegantly lifts the diaphranous veils of their outfits. They seem to be on their way to passing outside of the picture frame as they continue their stroll.

That breeze is further indicated by the brush strokes that show the incoming waters from the sea. A slight diagonal indicates the ladies’ progress and that is matched by the white line of sea foam running diagonally across the top of the painting. The action of the stroll is captured by this use of horizontal diagonals, and gently represented also by the vertical diagonal lines of the two women’s bodies. The movement is elegant; the sea is calm; the breeze is light, and the sun shines upon it all with delight. The bright white garments with their pale lavender and blue shadows echo the colors of the sea, while the daughter’s hat echoes the colors of the sand – a perfect harmony. Interestingly, in the shadow of the daughter is what could be a face in the sand, perhaps Sorolla is looking at these two beloved members of his family and thus also enjoying the stroll on the beach. (More on Sorolla’s shadow and reflection tricks later.)

Joaquín Sorolla, seen here in a 1909 self-portrait, was orphaned at the age of two, but was cared for by an aunt and uncle. The aunt in particular encouraged his artistic skills. He studied in Madrid, then went off to Rome, and finally in 1885 to Paris where he was influenced by the trend toward impressionism. His own work in fact is referred to as Spanish Impressionism. Upon his return to his native Valencia in 1888, he married his beloved Clothilde, started a family, and launched his grand plans for worldwide fame and fortune.

In the 1890s, the artist directed his work toward international exhibitions and world fairs, for which he did extraordinarily large works which capitalized on his ability to express the luminosity of the sunlit seacoast that bordered Valencia. This was done intentionally to attract global attention to his work. His grand plan to attain this worldwide fame and fortune came to fruition while on a trip to London in 1908, where he met Arthur Huntington, a descendant of Collis Huntington, a railroad baron. Arthur Huntington had founded the Hispanic Society of America in New York City and invited Sorolla to exhibit there in 1909. Sorolla sold 195 paintings and garnered 25 private commissions from that exhibition. As well, Huntington commissioned Sorolla to fill the walls of the building housing the Hispanic Society of America with paintings of Spanish life. Sorolla spent from 1910 to 1920 traveling Spain to capture its life and traditions for this series of huge paintings that filled the walls almost as a gigantic panoramic mural.

Las tres velas or The Three Sails, 1903 and Fisherwomen on the Beach, 1903 by Joaquin Sorolla.

The way that Sorolla used paint has become of as much interest as the subject matter represented, which was always about Spain. His work is known for the use of thick paint, broad brush strokes, light effects, and good drawing skills, all of which produced what became a type of Spanish Impressionism known as Valencian Luminism. In the paintings above done in the early 20th century, one can see the perfection of his techniques in creating luminous canvases. The beautiful pastels of the fisherwomen’s dresses and their bright white head scarves bring them forward in the painting. The reprise of light colors brings out the fullness of the sails in the background and unifies the painting.

As a Spaniard, Sorolla was also much influenced by the great Spanish painters who came before him, first and foremost, Diego Velazquez. Velazquez was the master of black, an important color in the Spanish wardrobe, and he used it effectively in the chiaroscuro techniques associated with Baroque art. Sorolla’s early paintings often used dark settings in which the lighter figures would stand out. We can see Sorolla’s handling of figures in a dimly lit setting in the painting below.

Kissing the Relic by Joaquin Sorolla, 1893

However, beyond balancing light and dark in a masterful way, Sorolla also took on Velazquez’ claim to be able to do wonderful portraits in about two hours, as according to Velazquez, it was necessary to capture the essence of the person quickly to do it justice. One of Velazquez’ most famous portraits was of Juan de Pareja, a painting so powerful that by some accounts it led to de Pareja’s emancipation. (See Of Art and Wine post “Diego Velazquez, Juan de Pareja …” March 10, 2020.) Sorolla also became a master at capturing not just the likeness but also something of the soul of those whose portraits he did. However, Sorolla took on Velazquez in other areas, adding his own special touch. Let’s look at the two nude figures below.

The Rokeby Venus, also known as Venus del espejo or Venus at Her Mirror by Diego Velazquez, 1647-1651. Click picture to magnify.

This is the only nude painting that we have by Diego Velazquez. It represents a theme common for a while in Venetian painting, that of a beautiful woman (Venus) gazing at her reflection in a mirror. The flesh tones are quite natural and the fabrics of the bed are handled to show their satiny elegance. Now look at Sorolla’s nude.

This nude is sometimes called Gypsy, 1908 by Joaquin Sorolla. Click picture to magnify.

Sorolla’s wife, Clothilde, posed for this painting, but the artist discreetly gave it another name, Gypsy. Sorolla’s adherence to luminosity shows through in the representation of the fabric, but also it shows in the treatment of the model’s skin which takes on the effects of the violet shadows in the fabric.

Another master of Spanish painting is Francisco Goya, who painted one of the other famous nudes in Spanish painting, The Naked Maja. Some art historians see Sorolla as the link between Goya and Picasso. (For that discussion along with other information about Sorolla, click on this link to a video from the National Gallery of London youtube.com.) Sorolla honored Goya in a specific way with the portrait of his own daughter, Maria, in a black mantilla and a white skirt.

Here Sorolla paints María in a pose similar to the famous paintings by Francisco Goya of the Duchess of Alba. Sorolla’s daughter wears a mantilla that is almost as elaborate as that of the duchess. Her delicate slipper appears gracefully from under her ruffled skirt, and she holds a fan in her hand, as was appropriate for any señorita. Interestingly, Sorolla pays homage to both of Goya’s portraits of the duchess by combining into one painting the pose and the reference to the two different poses of duchess María Caetana, the Black Duchess in which she is dressed all in black and the White Duchess in which she wears a white dress.

The White Duchess, 1795 and the Black Duchess, 1797 by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes

I mentioned before that Sorolla liked to play tricks with shadow and reflection. One of his most dramatic pieces is Reflections in a Fountain (1908). It seems that his visit to Granada and the Alhambra palace in 1908 restored his faith in a country which had become in his opinion increasingly “vulgar and empty” (see link below to article in El Pais). When looking at this painting, at first it is disorienting, though ever so lovely. Then we adjust our vision to realize that we are looking at a mirror image, a reflection in water of a structure that we do not actually see.

Reflections in a Fountain, 1908 by Joaquin Sorolla. See “Sorolla Revisits the Alhambra” english.elpais.com Click picture to magnify.

For another look at how Sorolla could play with the viewer’s consciousness and offer up surprises is the painting below. Again, at first glance one is disoriented. It takes a moment or two to decipher what is being shown. We see rocks and water, but there is a strange division in the painting, with one part light and the other dark. What is going on here?

Click picture to magnify.

Then we notice the patch of yellow on the left side and a less well-defined one that shimmers in the water. They are the arches of an old bridge, and this painting is The Shadow of the Alcantara Bridge, Toledo (1906). These visual tricks make the viewer stop to wonder. Admittedly one is helped by reading the title, but even with that, it may take a moment to orient one’s view. It is wonderful to see how the artist accomplishes this representation of an observed reality. Sorolla’s skill and delight in playing with shadow and reflection is what caused me to speculate that in the painting of the stroll on the beach, there is in his daughter’s shadow a face in the sand. As a painter myself, I also would say that one does not leave distracting images unless one intends to leave them.

While Sorolla focused on Spain and on some of the great Spanish masters, and we know that he was influenced also by Impressionism, he had a friendly rivalry with some of his contemporaries like Whistler and Sargent. One can make a direct comparison with Sargent if one looks at the three pictures below.

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent; Lilies by Sorolla and Flowers and a Birdbath by Sorolla

Sorolla did not live to see his great paintings hung in the Hispanic Society of America in New York. The artist died in 1923 following a stroke in 1920 just after finishing the series of paintings for Huntington. Unfortunately, by the time the paintings were hung in 1926, his work was considered passé. Not unlike Monet who suffered the same fate until the 1950s began a revival of his work, Sorolla is having a resurgence of interest, with modern painters who are fascinated with his use of paint, and how he could represent the effects of light. The results of this newly found interest will only help move painting in new directions with Sorolla’s work as a sound stepping stone.

One of Sorolla’s last paintings is of his garden with an empty chair. The Gardens of the Sorolla Family House (1920).

The paintings of Sorolla, Goya, and Velazquez are all in public domain. References for information in this post are listed in linked items that appear throughout the article.

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

Bobal, the Unsung Grape of Valencian Wine.

A cluste of Bobal grapes from a vineyard near Valencia . Photo credit viator.com

Beautiful as is this cluster of blue-violet grapes, this grape was the cause of Valencia’s wine growing region having the reputation of being rather lackluster in terms of its wine. Merlot, Chardonnay, and Cabernet Sauvignon, the giants of wine production, never took too well to the soils of Valencia Province, which is hot and has little rain, though a nice sea breeze passes through often. So how did Bobal get to be the third most commonly planted grape in Spain?

Well, there was this little aphid that liked to eat the roots of grape vines, and it (phylloxera) took a distinct liking to the precious grape vines of France in 1877. Horrors! What were the wine merchants ever to do to make up the shortage caused by that pesky insect? Eyes turned to Spain where the aphid had not yet struck, and there near enough to France was Valencia and those fields of this grape which could be added into red wine to cover the deficit in other varieties. Et voilà! Valencia enters the bulk wine business.

A vineyard in the Valencia DO Photo credit viator.com

With a thick skin and the ability to resist drought, this grape makes deep red wine that is high in tannins, low in acidity, high in alcohol, and full of rich fruit flavors. While the bulk wine aspect of Bobal has been a mainstay, the current question is how to change Bobal into a source for the making of fine wines. One direction has been the production of organic wines with 100% Bobal grapes. As well, the grapes are high in resveratrol, which is a natural antioxident. What could be better for an organic wine? The Tarantas brand has developed both a Tarantas Rosé and a Tarantas Sparkling Rosé made from organically grown Bobal grapes. Their wines are often sold at Whole Foods, so look for them there. For more go to naturalmerchants.com.

Some winemakers like Victor de la Serna, came to Manchuela,, an area near Valencia, because he married into a family from there. He took to experimenting with the local Bobal grape, combining it with Syrah grapes and Monastrell to produce a Syrah wine that produces a rather exotic taste of “fruits and flowers.” (See nytimes.com). Another winemaker in the area, who is known as Mr. Ponce, talks about the challenge of making a fine wine and refers to the Bobal as “unique and mystical.” He makes an exceptional rosé of Bobal grapes called Las Cañadas.

That great Spanish Mediterranean Invention – Paella!

One can’t help but associate Valencia with the wonders of the sea that all come together in paella. This dish is rich, rich, rich, and a great treat. What better to serve with it than a fine rosé made from Bobal grapes. However, food choices are not limited to seafood. Orange chicken is a nice match, as are casseroles and even barbeque. And do not be afraid to drink this rich red wine in summer. HuffPost recently featured this article, “Spain’s Bobal Wines for Summer,” huffpost.com.

Nothing like a sugar-free dessert like this cheese cake with fruit topping. Once you have this dessert, so restrained on calories, you can be bad with a sip of Fondillon, a dessert wine made from the late harvest of grapes including Bobal.

So in the heat of summer when travel is limited, I suggest that you take a virtual trip to Valencia via Sorolla’s paintings (click here for a video montage of Sorolla’s work youtube.com), have a wonderful paella, and a glass of Valencia’s own Bobal wine from one of the sources above. Should you want to explore further a field, just click on Cellars Wine Club under Pages in this blog to see the options for all the types of clubs available. There is something for every level of wine expertise and budget, free shipping, and a “no bad bottle” return policy. Or just click here cellarswineclub.com.

Note: I am an associate of Cellars Wine Club and may earn from qualifying purchases.

Coming Soon: Caravaggio’s Chiaroscuro, and Lazio, the Roman Wine Region.

The Flight Into Egypt by Caravaggio. 1597. Click on picture to magnify.

Yes, this was painted by the bad boy of dark and light, himself, Michelangelo Merisi, known as Caravaggio. His furious life and furious painting career spilled out all over Rome and might have even been fueled by some of the wines from the Roman region.

Natural America: Audubon and Bodmer, plus Organic Wines.

An American Flamingo from John James Audubon’s Birds of America

That is one impressive bird, and the artist, John James Audubon (born Jean-Jacques Rabin) made it more so by printing it on 30″ x 40″ paper. Even so, the artist had to make a rather strange curve in the neck just above the head so as to get the whole bird into the picture. However, if there is one thing Audubon was true to, it was the accurate representation, life-size, of the birds he drew.

Audubon (1785-1851) portrayed here in a portrait by George Healy in the Museum of Science, Boston, mos.org, went through a number of iterations before being able to pursue his great love of painting birds. Born in Haiti of a French father, he spent his youth in France, coming to the U.S. in 1803. He tried business with some success, married and had two sons, and was relatively prosperous until 1819, when an economic downturn caused him to go bankrupt.

What was a financial disaster for him worked to allow him to pursue his real love – painting birds. In 1819-1820, he deployed his artistic talents doing portraits of prominent citizens in Louisville. With money earned from that skill and the support of his wife, Lucy, he was able to travel down the Mississippi to New Orleans and its Bayou, where with the help of a young assistant, John Mason, who drew the background settings, Audubon captured in watercolor the birds throughout the area.

Great Blue Heron and the Roseate Spoonbill by John James Audubon in Birds of America.

Audubon, while being very precise and scientific in his physical representations of the birds, drew criticism for the often dramatic poses and backgrounds that the birds appear in. The ornithological drawings of the time were normally on a plain background. However, Audubon liked to set the birds in their habitat and have them in poses doing activities which he had observed in real life. Above we get to see the blue heron showing its wings as it searches for a fish in the waters. The roseate duckbill is doing much the same thing, but this time with a more fully developed landscape background. The artistry of his work overall won over his severest American critics, but only after he left America for a stay in England in 1826. There his appearance as a rough hewn American frontiersman (see portrait above) attracted attention and a publisher for the four volume work, Birds of America, consisting of 435 paintings!

That frontiersman approach also worked for him once he returned to America, as that seemed to those from the eastern part of the U.S. to add extra authenticity to his outstanding volumes of drawings. The sets of books were sold by subscription (early print-on-demand publishing?) and some 175-200 sets were sold. His work became a family enterprise, with Lucy writing down his observations, his son, Victor, overseeing the printing, and his son, John, doing some of the drawing. Audubon went west again in 1843 to draw animals for his book Quadrupeds of America. His notes on nature and focus on the majestic landscapes of Yellowstone were forerunners of artists to come shortly after, like Albert Bierstadt and Frederic Church. And of course, in later years, the National Audubon Society was founded in his memory, allowing us to have various nature centers throughout the country in which we can peacefully enjoy the environment and its creatures.

Karl Bodmer: A Naturalist of Another Sort

While Audubon’s seminal works on birds and beasts serve as both artistic and scientific records that have been passed down in history to us, another artist came to the U.S., employed by a German prince who wished to explore the “wilds” of America. The prince was Maximillian of Wied-Neuwied, and the artist was Karl Bodmer (1809-1893). Their trip to America from 1832-1834 in which they traveled into the west using flatboats on the upper Missouri River, resulted in the publication of Travels in the Interiors of North America (1843-44). This work became wonderful documentation of the life and the look of the land and the traditional Native American cultures from that time period.

The Confluence of the Fox and Wabash Rivers by Karl Bodmer.

If we thought that Audubon could be dramatic, Bodmer certainly does not hold back in capturing the wild tangle of trees and dense forestation along the river banks. In a picture that could be foreboding, the few cattle that drink from the river seem to indicate that domestication of this wilderness is happening. Along with that, Bodmer lightens the sky, moving from a pale, soft orange to a light blue, which opens the scene somewhat.

Bodmer is particularly appreciated for his detailed work and accurate representations of the native people that were encountered on this two-year journey. Prince Maximillian in particular wanted to see the native people who were as yet not touched by the western migration of people from the eastern U.S. Bodmer’s skill at capturing the likeness of his subjects is why the prince hired him to come along. Bodmer always asked the native people to wear the clothing that they wished to be represented in and in this way captured many unique forms of dress which now serve as historical cultural records much prized by the Native American population and by the rest of us as well.

Mandan Chief Mato Tope in his war paint and in his ceremonial regalia as seen by Karl Bodmer.

One of the most outstanding characters that Bodmer encountered was the chief of the Mandans, Mato Tope, or Four Bears, known to be the fiercest warrior of his era on the plains of America. Supposedly he would show up for a portrait every day in a different outfit, each designed to show off his brave accomplishments and his glory as a chief. These works by Bodmer are now in the Joslyn Museum in Omaha, Nebraska (see video here on Mato Tope, The Rock Star of the Plains youtube.com).

This dramatic piece by Bodmer shows totems or idols constructed by the Mandan. There is a ghostly quality to this piece almost as if Bodmer sensed the coming destruction of these cultures. Mato-Tope, the great warrior who was undefeated on the battlefield. was felled by smallpox just three years after Bodmer’s portraits of him. That disease went on to devastate the native people of the plains. Bodmer’s work is as close to a living testament as we have.

Modern Times, Modern Themes.

Image created by Cheryl Medow, “The Art of Birds, Revealed Through An Altered Reality” by Becky Harlan nationalgeographic.com See cherylmedow.com for more photos.

The photograph above takes romanticized images of birds in a new direction. While Audubon broke free from the dull poses and stark white backgrounds of the drawings and paintings of birds in his day, Medow applies photography and her skills in composition to capture the birds in action and create a special environment for them. The roseate spoonbills in the photo above are from St. Augustine, Florida. The background, however, is from Hanalei Bay off Kauai in Hawaii. The magic of the juxtaposition of the birds and a completely different environment creates an altered reality that stops viewers in their tracks. The artist was once asked to explain what she does. When she started to reply, someone else in the group told her not to speak just yet because he wanted time to only to enjoy the pictures.

Medow does say of her work that she follows in the tradition of the Hudson Valley School of painting in which the artists went out to sketch scenes en plein air but created their paintings in the studio as composites made up of various parts of the scenery they had sketched. In that way no one can really point to a specific location that matches any of their paintings. Here the birds are put in natural settings that are not their usual ones to create a type of magical reality that maximizes the beauty of both the birds and the settings.

The Cardinal and the Arapahoe, watercolor paintings by Wes Karchut

The artist who did the two paintings above, Wes Karchut, specialized for a while in western painting and as such grew accustomed to representing Native American subjects. The fierce look in the eyes of this Arapahoe man caught Karchut’s attention. He gives the man’s face the contours and colors of a southwestern landscape, while also capturing some of the color and originality of the man’s clothing. The painting of the cardinal is in the fine tradition of Audubon, who so loved to capture the natural gestures of the birds. Here Karchut says he was moved by the proud stance of this bird and that in fact influenced his brush strokes, especially around the crest atop the bird’s head. For more on Karchut’s art see weskarchutart.com and for an article on the artist go to vernellestudio.com

Regardless of the time period, the North American continent has never lacked in diversity and beauty. Thankfully there have been artists who could use their skills and imagination to capture it and draw our attention to what we might not have otherwise fully noticed.

Paintings are either in public domain or live linked to artist websites.

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

Organic Wines, Natural Wines and Biodynamic Viticulture

Some excellent organic wines from “15 Best Organic Wine Brands 2020” delish.com Photo credit to Alyssa Gray.

In the last years with the rising awareness of environmentally sound sustainable agriculture, the subject of organic wines, natural wines, and those produced by biodynamic viniculture techniques has come to the fore. The first thing to handle is how to define what these terms mean. Organic wines are generally described as wines made from organically grown grapes (careful attention given to non-chemical interventions in the growing process) which are often also processed without the addition of sulfites. However, one can also purchase wines with sulfites but made from organically grown grapes. Normally these do not carry the name Organic Wine. The lack of sulfites is the key to the organic label, which is a regulated term. That means certain codified specifications must be met for the wine to call itself organic.

Then we have Natural Wines like those pictured here which are sugar-free. These are wines made of grapes grown with little intervention. The wine is made often using ancient aging techniques, and the color and taste can be quite different from what we normally expect.

The way this type of wine is processed can involve techniques that go back to ancient times. The taste of the wine can be rather on the bitter side like sour beer, and the colors range from pink to orange. These wines appeal to those who want to live a healthier lifestyle as they do not use yeast for fermentation, have few if any sulfites, and are normally made from organically grown grapes. However, since there is such creative variety in how these wines are produced there is no regulation the codifies what is to be considered a Natural Wine.

Lastly we have the term biodynamic which does not really reflect a type of wine, but rather the agricultural process. The focus is on the terroir or the soil and the design process in making the wines. Some of the growing techniques are a bit “mystical” involving wizardry, and the wine might even be aged in antique clay amphora as was done in Roman times. Biodynamically grown grapes may be used in natural wines but can also be found in industrial wines. Delish.com gives a good survey of organic wines in an article linked above under the photos of bottles of organic wine. For a short video with more on these terms, Eric Texier, a winemaker, talks about these categories. youtube.com

Photo from Pexels. naturalmerchants.com

When it comes to foods to match with the organic wines, one can use the normal range of options, with Sauvignon Blanc for fish and seafood dishes, grilled meats with organic Temperanillo or Malbec, and organic rose with anything using mild cheeses. Natural Merchants has quite a list of good things to pair on their website naturalmerchants.com. One of the things to note is that some of the best organic wines come from Australia and Chile. Once again click the link under the first photo for Delish.com.

These days going off to Chile or Australia is a lot more difficult but that need not limit your access to organic wines or others produced there. This is where a good wine club like those offered at Cellars Wine Clubs comes in handy. Not only is there an International Wine Club, but there is also one for Natural and Organic Wines.

The testimonial above is only one of many. Cellars has a variety of wine clubs that address every level of wine expertise and every budget. Free shipping, a “no bad bottle” return policy and the Give Back program that allows 15% of the purchase to be donated to one of a number of vetted charities, make Cellars an excellent choice. Click on the Cellars page on this blog (right hand column).

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and  CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming soon: The Paintings of Joaquin Sorolla and the Wines of Valencia.

Las tres velas (The Three Sails) by Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida.

Celebrated as the Spanish Master of Light in a special exhibition in 2019 at the National Gallery in London, the work of Joaquin Sorolla presents another look at Impressionism from the eyes of someone from the sparkling Mediterranean coast of Valencia, Spain.

Japanese Influences on Western Art and Sake, a Rice Wine.

Japanese Prints in Monet’s home in Giverny

“If you insist on forcing me into an affiliation…then compare me with the old Japanese masters. Their exquisite taste has always delighted me, and I like the suggestive quality of their aesthetic, which evokes a presence by a shadow and the whole by a part.” Claude Monet parkwestgallery.com

Well, there you have it. Monet was an adherent to what the French called “Japonisme,” an interest that began influencing artists in the late 19th century after Japan was opened for trade with the Occident. Monet’s home in Giverny is literally, among other things, a gallery of fine Japanese prints done by some of the most notable of the Japanese printmakers. On the one visit that I have made so far to Giverny, I noted buses of only Japanese tourists. They had come, yes, to admire the wonderful gardens, also inspired by the Japanese aesthetic, but as well to see masterworks done by their famous artists, those old Japanese masters Monet refers to.

Here in this painting from 1876, we have Camille in Costume, a painting Monet did of his wife dressed in a kimono with an assortment of fans all around. Given the smile on Camille’s face and the lovely tilt of her head, posing in this gorgeous gown must have been quite a treat. Monet’s composition makes good use of the flowing cloth of the kimono by fanning it out in a swirl around her feet. The movement of the kimono mimics the curve of the fan she holds in her hand and the whole structure of fan, model, and kimono make a huge S-curve design, a compositional element favored in earlier times by painters like El Greco.

Water Lily Pond – Green Harmonies by Claude Monet, 1899

It has often been said that Monet’s other great gift to the world was his vast garden at Giverny. Actually they are a collection of gardens that range from fruit trees that are split so that their branches run horizontally along wires, to flowers of all kinds, and of course, the famous lily ponds. In the painting above, we see his Japanese bridge that spans a section of a lily pond. In this painting we see not only the bridge, but the beginning of Monet’s quest to decentralize landscape painting by removing certain boundaries that are normally expected. For more on this idea and how it manifests in Monet’s late painting, see this article in the right hand column of this page, “Monet’s Lily Pond and the Last of the Summer Wine.”

Of course Monet was not the only artist of that time period to be influenced by the arrival of these beautiful and quite different works of art from Japan. Cezanne, Degas, Toulouse Lautrec, and even Gauguin, who stopped using lithography and began using woodcut printing techniques, were all influenced. One of the topics that attracted attention was that of bathing women. Edgar Degas (1834-1917) took the theme of the bathing woman for his pastel “The Tub,” in which the angle of the woman’s body, the details of the intimate objects used for her bath, and the way the shelf is flatten as it might be in a Japanese print as opposed to western ideas of perspective and foreshortening, all show the influence of those Japanese prints.

The Tub by Edgar Degas, 1886. D’Orsay Museum, Paris, France. To see this painting side-by-side with a Japanese bathing woman go to “West Meets East: How Japan Inspired a Western Art Movement at
parkwestgallery.com

One of the artists most taken by the arrival of Japanese prints and the artistic aesthetic related to them was Vincent Van Gogh. He did his versions of the famous prints, sometimes even copying the Japanese writing that accompanied the print, though the piece below showing the frame would indicate that Van Gogh was not a great calligrapher. Below we can compare his Flowering Plum Tree (1887) with Hiroshige’s Plum Blossoms. Van Gogh gives the colors a punch with deep reds, pinks, and a solid orange for the frame. The small figures in the background are in yellows and blue, and trees have yellow and white blossoms that move into pink, orange and a deep red. Hiroshige, on the other hand keeps the colors subtle, using calming grays, blues, and a soft pinkish-red. Van Gogh does keep some of the flatness that one sees in Hiroshigi’s print.

Flowering Plum Blossoms by Vincent Van Gogh, 1887 The Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, Holland.
Plum Blossoms by Utagawa Hiroshige (1797 – 1858)

However, Van Gogh was to integrate the Japanese idea of a delicate focus on simple items, like a stem of flowers or a branch of blossoms. In particular we see this in Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms (1890), which he painted in honor of the birth of his brother Theo’s first child. There are no experiments with color combinations nor any attempts at calligraphy. Here there is just nature’s delicacy, along with Van Gogh’s incredible ability to focus on detail in order to make these blossoms the perfect heralds of the birth of a new life.

Almond Blossoms by Vincent Van Gogh (1890) The Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, Holland.

The influence of Japan continued to be felt into the 20th century with artists like Piet Mondrian using the concept of the single stem of flowers as the basis of many of his own floral paintings. Certain Japanese concepts like wabi-sabi, the finding of unexpected beauty or beauty in imperfection, appeal to the western mind as does Monet’s estimation of how presence is evoked by a shadow or the whole by a part. One contemporary artist who thoroughly appreciates and who can also aptly express those ideas is Jess Preble. Perhaps it comes from her time working as a sushi chef in San Francisco. Perhaps it is her deep appreciation and understanding of how Junichiro Tanizaki explains the subtle in Japanese culture in his wonderful work, In Praise of Shadows. Whether it is one or both of these, she creates pieces that respond to elements of that aesthetic and which provide a counterpoint to much of her other work.

The Other Teacup by Jess Preble. Jess Preble Fine Art at jesspreble.com and in June, 2020 at Kreuser Gallery exhibition, My Name is Nobody abigailkreusergallery.com

Here the name of the piece evokes that idea of the shadow of a presence. The viewer knows without seeing it that there is another, a mate to this cup. That brings the question: What is the quality of this matching cup? Does it match in appearance or is it the polar opposite? Is it the sun to this moon? Just as the moon has its light and dark sides, this cup has mystery. The rough hewn surface, the imperfect symmetry (asymmetry?), and the way it is set off center in the picture indicate its unique character. It is a creation of wabi-sabi, a beautiful imperfection, which appeals in its singularity to the person who holds it. This is a cup for the famed 16th century Japanese tea master, Sen no Rikyu, whose explanation of the beauty of raku pottery is wonderfully presented in the film Rikyu by Hiroshi Teshigahara (1989 imbd.com ) in which the zen master’s thoughts on a teacup express this idea of unique beauty. Preble’s sensitivity to the textured surface of the cup extends to the textured treatment of the background elements, which also move from light to dark. This cup is a creation that might be set aside by some but surely seen by a discerning eye captured by its silent possibilities.

No other way to end this journey into another aesthetic than to return to Monet. In this case it is a koi pond in Seki, Japan that reflects the beauty of his gardens in France. It is the Nemichi Shrine, a Shinto shrine with a pond that looks like a living Monet painting. (For video see youtube.com)

“Monet’s Pond” in Seki City, Japan. Photo from amusingplanet.com

Paintings used in this article are in public domain or used with permission of the artist.

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.

Sake, a Rice Wine or a Misnomer?

Sake with cups. Photo by LovePik. free download.

Of course it is the perfect compliment to a nice Japanese meal, and though subtle, it can pack quite a punch (sake is 16% alcohol on average). But how can that be, you ask, it’s made from rice, isn’t it? Well, here is the main thing wine from grapes and wine from rice have in common: sugar. From grapes the sugar comes from the juice; from rice is comes from converting the starch to sugar. And, of course, they are both then fermented to create the alcohol content. So in that loosest of senses, they are both wines.

However, some say that is as far as this comparison should go. The Sake Times has an article in which it insists: “Let’s Stop Calling Sake “Rice Wine.” It points out that sake is actually just a Japanese word for alcohol, en.sake-times.com. I don’t know how much headway they are going to make with that. However, it is pointed out that “rice wine” is the term used to describe a number of Asian alcoholic drinks made from fermented rice and does nothing to engage the differences in the process of making the various national versions (Chinese, Korean and Japanese) of these rice alcohols or their differences in taste.

Audrey Hepburn has some sake to the seeming amazement of her young son.

We will leave the rice wine or not rice wine wars behind and move on to other important things in sake culture. As in all things Japanese, there is a protocol for how and when to do things. Now I am sure that any of our local Japanese restaurants would be happy to serve us sake with our sushi, and the more of each the better. However, tea or water is normally the drink that accompanies a feast of sushi, itself a special treat rather than a daily meal habit. The sake, made from rice, can blunt the taste of the fish which comes also with rice. Better to have warm sake at the end of the meal when it can settle calmly alone on the taste buds and descend with a mild tingle to create the appropriate after glow of a fine meal.

SAKE GOES INTERNATIONAL

Yes, folks, that’s a pizza, and it is one of four unusual food pairings that Eater.com suggests for a good sake experience. Here they suggest junmai daijingo sake for it is dry with hints of fruit. They also suggest a sparkling sake as the bubbles help cleanse the palate.

Of course, seafood is always a good bet with sake. Oysters, scallops, shrimp are all easy choices. However, cheeses work well as do some chicken and some tomato based pasta dishes (just think of the pizza above). By the way Eater.com goes into some other unusual combinations like barbeque, Thai food, and chocolate(!) with suggestions for which type of sake to choose for each.

Another aspect of sake that yes, has a comparison to grape wine, is that it is a wonderful addition to your cooking. It can be used to enhance flavor just like grape wines can; however, it can also cut the “fishy” taste of some fish dishes as well as add healthy antioxidants to you diet. Cooking sake is a special blend of sake made expressly for cooking and it is normally rather inexpensive.

Common Cooking Sakes Photo credit to Japanese Pantry justonecookbook.com

Lastly sake is a traditional New Year’s gift. One form is toso, sake infused with medicinal herbs to help one fight off winter’s illnesses like the common cold or to help with upset stomachs. One thing nice to do is to follow the custom of opening a bottle to toast the new year and perhaps write a haiku. Here is one from Yosa Buson (1716 – 1783):

The old calendar

fills me with gratitude

like a song.

So remember that sake is a noble drink with a long tradition. The more you learn about it, the more you’ll be tempted to try it. For myself, that sparkling sake sounds really good. I shall give it a try.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and   CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming Soon: Natural America: Audubon and Bodmer, plus Organic Wines.

An American Flamingo by Jean Jacques Audubon and White Castles on the Missouri by Karl Bodmer

Sometimes capturing the essence of a place is done in amazing ways by those who come from other places. The work of Jean Jacques Audubon and that of Karl Bodmer provide unique visions of what these men from other lands found in America. Nature’s influence is also being felt in the wine making industry as organic wines are becoming the rage.

Uccello, The Battle of San Romano, and Brunello, Another Tuscan Red.

One panel of a triptych on the Battle of San Romano by Paulo Uccello, 1438-1440. National Gallery, London.

War broke out in 1432 between two rival Italian city-states. Yes, it was Florence versus Siena, once again. It seems they were fighting over trade routes through Pisa. Now when I tell you that these paintings (yes, there are three panels) commemorating the battle were commissioned by Leonardo Bartolini-Salimbeni of Florence, you will guess which side won the battle. Florence, right! The other battle that was going on in Florence at that time was the rendering of perspective. Yes, we take it for granted that we somewhere in junior high art class learn to use our rulers to do one-point perspective. However, in the early 15th century, this was a big issue. Even a book was published in 1435 called De Pictura by Leon Battista Alberti, in which Alberti explained mathematically how to do perspective. The artist who did the paintings of The Battle of San Romano, Paolo di Dono, known better to us as Paolo Uccello (1397-1475), supposedly stayed up nights, losing sleep over trying to perfect this concept in his painting.

When we look at the painting above, we see an image that relates to the confusion of events that can happen on a battlefield. The man in the red headdress is Niccolo da Tolentino, a type of general known as a condottiere, who was basically the leader of a private mercenary army. He is bravely leading a charge so sure of winning that he is not wearing a helmet (note that his young blond page is not wearing one either). Admittedly, some art historians say since the painting was commissioned a few years after the battle, the red hat was just a way of celebrating Tolentino’s victory. The action seems to all happen across the front of the panel with very little depth, as though it were set on a stage. The immediate background is rather flat and full of soldiers and shrubs, which bear oranges and roses, a lovely decorative touch. In the far distance, the upper part of the panel, we see soldiers riding away and others who are archers with their large white crossbows. It is said that this part of the battle happened in the morning hence the lightness of the upper panel; however, there is no indication of the shadows that these men and horses would have cast. Instead the action, while furious, is rendered in a somewhat flat way. But this is the Renaissance, so why does this painting not look like what you see in Michelangelo or Leonardo’s work? Well, that is where the other battle was going on in this painting.

Uccello, called so because he loved painting birds (uccelli), was one of the last of the late Gothic painters who was transitioning to the Renaissance. Thus we can see in this painting the struggles that kept him up at night. The late Gothic was a period in which the decorative was very important. The flat stylized appearance of the objects was not as important as the beauty of the decorative appeal of the objects, which were sometimes covered in precious metals or in paints made from crushed stone like lapis lazuli. The coming of perspective required a more realistic approach as opposed to just being a decorative hanging. In the painting above, these two elements, decoration versus perspective reality, fight it out just like the combatants in the image of this famous battle. As the warriors parade across the front of the panel, their fallen comrades and their lances lie on the ground pointing into the painting to suggest a vanishing point just beyond the battlefield.

The Middle Panel of the Battle of San Romano by Paolo Uccello, 1438-1440. Uffizi Gallery in Florence.

In this the middle panel of the three, we see once again the action taking place across the front of the panel. There are no horses in this panel with golden decorations on their livery though we do see a few gleaming oranges. However, just behind the scene of the unseating of the opposition’s condottiere, Bernardino della Carda, what appear to be soldiers in gray armor were originally in armor covered in silver to approximate the gleam of the real thing. The way the horses prance, rear, and kick or lie fallen on the battlefield tell the story of a fierce battle but in an almost purely decorative way, like the flat rendering found in a tapestry. The main emphasis here is on the decorative aspect as would have been seen in Gothic miniatures.

The third panel of the Battle of San Romano by Paolo Uccello, 1438-1440. Louvre Museum in Paris.

Here we have the other Sienese general for hire, Michelotto da Cotignola, also wearing a more ceremonial headdress, known as a mazzocchio, as he leads his men into a charge. Once again we see the horses wearing golden ornaments and the original armor in silver, now tarnished or missing, would have made this painting bright and dazzling. However, Uccello’s struggle with perspective continues here as we have the action across the front of the panel with a rather dark solid background, almost like a curtain on a stage. None of this means that it or the other two are not beautiful paintings, but they just do not show the depth of field that was beginning to become the hallmark of Florentine painting as it explored and developed the idea of perspective.

Photo of original drawing of a mazzocchio, showing all the angles necessary to create its rounded form by Paolo Uccello, 15th century, probably at the time of the paintings of the Battle of San Romano.

Working with dimension in this way was Uccello’s obsession. To produce this drawing, he mathematically calculated the angles of the different parts of this headdress. While he captured the fury of the battle and even got the mazzocchio to look correct, he remained well within the traditions of the painting of the previous era, with lots of decorative elements, gold, silver, precious colors, and a design that befits an earlier period.

Uccello did a number of things in his life as an artist, some of them in Venice where he did mosaics (now lost) for San Marco Basilica, and in Florence, the beautiful paintings in the courtyard of Santa Maria della Novella, but mastering perspective was his focus always. Here is his self-portrait on a panel bearing the faces of other great Italian painters (1450)in which he positioned himself between Giotto and Donatello.

We see a face rendered as it would have been done in the early Renaissance in the time of Massacio (1400-1428) when the realistic was returning to European art. Yet it does not have the look that we associate with Leonardo, Raphael, or Michelangelo. Uccello was a painter in a transitional period, along with Fra Angelico, whose work is highly decorative and also reminiscent of those illuminated manuscripts. However, Uccello continued with his quest for perspective, leaving us with one of his last paintings, The Hunt in the Night Forest (c. 1470)

The Hunt or The Hunt in the Night Forest by Uccello, c. 1470.

Here we see some of the familiar aspects of Uccello’s painting with lots of action at the front of the panel. The trees are done in decorative format, each perfectly shaped with little variation to create a lush canopy over the darkened land into which the animals run. However, at this point we clearly get the idea of depth in that forest. It is not just another area as backdrop in the upper end of the panel, like the fields in Panel 1 of The Battle of San Romano, nor is it just a dark backdrop as in Panel 3 of The Battle of San Romano. Here every line we can draw from any of the creatures, man or beast, that appear in this painting will go to one point somewhere deep in that forest. Ultimately if all this crowd of characters runs from the light in the front of the panel toward where the animals are, they will all disappear from view in the forest of the night where they meet the vanishing point.

However, we must not think of The Battle of San Romano paintings as lessened in importance because of their transitional nature. In fact, Lorenzo de Medici (yes, Lorenzo, the Magnificent, himself) actually used force to take the three paintings from the Bartolini-Salimbeni to bring them to the Medici Palazzo. So the paintings themselves seem to have been fought over. On a completely speculative note, I wonder if the Bartolini (of Florence) had those paintings commissioned to prove just how fiercely proud (and loyal) they were as Florentines, even though the Salimbeni part of their name comes from a well known important family in Siena. Everything was political in Florence, so art history’s mysteries abound.

Painting by Uccello and the drawing of the mazzocchio are in public domain.

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.

Brunello, Another Tuscan Red.

A glass of Brunello and the Sangiovese Grosso grapes from finedininglovers.com

We know of the rivalry in the Middle Ages between Florence and Siena. In fact in Of Art and Wine’s discussion of Chianti (see “The Hand as a Work of Art, and Chianti, a Tuscan Red.”), the story of the gallo nero or black rooster label was told, in which Florence was able to claim most of the land between Florence and Siena because its rider covered more territory than the Sienese rider. However, Siena has not suffered unduly. Yes, the area known as Chianti went to Florence and produces the various types of Chianti well known throughout the world. However, the greatest wine of Tuscany grows at altitudes of up to 600 meters (around 1900 feet) near the town of Montalcino. It is called Brunello or “little dark one” and comes often with the place name, Brunello di Montalcino.

Now, what is it that makes Brunello so special? Well, a number of things. It has a DOCG appellation, meaning that how it is made and what it is made from are strictly controlled. The grapes are a type of Sangiovese, a clone known as Sangiovese Grosso, and the wine is made 100% from these grapes. The grapes cannot be grown at an altitude higher than 600 meters as the soil in the area, a mixture of clay and dark rock which contains lots of minerals, is considered a major element in the taste of the wine. That taste is described as fruity, ripe and tart like sour cherries combined with savory herbs and iron. The wine must be aged for four years, with at least two in oak barrels, and stored for at least four months before being allowed onto the market. Two versions of the aging process exist. One uses French oak barrels which produce a concentrated, rich, toasty flavor, while the second version uses traditional large old oak barrels that produce a less fruity more earthy flavor.

The word most commonly used to describe Brunello is “elegant.” Of course it has a price to match, with $50 being a good starting price. However, all hope is not lost. The wine-making rules of the region require that 30% of those Sangiovese Grosso grapes be declassified and allowed to mature for less time, producing a Rosso di Montalcino. It has no barrel-aging requirement and only has to be one year old before being released to the market. It has more body than Chianti and less tannin, and here is the good part. You can get this one for about $20.

And now for the food!

Blueberry tartelette, with vanilla custard. Photo credit, Copy Share.

Yes, Brunello goes very well with solid desserts like the blueberry and vanilla custard tartelette above. According to Roberta Schira in her article, “Brunello di Montalcino’s Pairings: Do’s and Dont’s,” there are a range of items from wild game, to hard cheeses, to rich desserts like the one above that all go well with Brunello di Montalcino. She warns, though, against grilled meats, pizza, fish, and piquant foods, and she explains why for each. So I shall turn you over to her so that you can soak up her wisdom finedininglovers.com

As our Tuscan adventure into the past lives of Florence and Siena draws to a close, there is a way to enjoy international travel through wine. Join a wine club like Cellars Wine Club. Cellars has an International Wine Club along with free shipping, and a “no bad bottle” return policy. Click here to go directly to the International Wine Club cellarswineclub.com or go to Of Art and Wine Pages on the right and click to see all of the different wine clubs offered.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and   CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming Soon: Japanese Influences on Western Art and Sake, a Rice Wine.

The Other Teacup by Jess Preble, currently showing other works in “My Name is Nobody” June 2020, at Kreuser Gallery, Colorado Springs, CO.

Japanese wood block prints had a remarkable influence on the painting of the French Impressionists like Claude Monet and Post-Impressionists like Vincent Van Gogh. That influence continues into our era, inspiring painters to look with new eyes at a Japanese aesthetic that praises shadows and finds beauty in imperfection. The Japanese also produce a very fine drink, a wine made of rice. Yes, saké.

The Hand as a Work of Art and Chianti, a Tuscan Red.

Detail of the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci, c. 1503.

Out of scholarly duty I put in the name of the painting and the name of the artist above, but we all know those hands. They belong to the Mona Lisa, also known as La Gioconda, after the family name of the rich merchant who had Leonardo paint a picture of his wife, Lisa. Since Leonardo never delivered the painting or at least not this painting, but kept it with him until his death in 1519 in France, we don’t know which parts of this might have been the merchant’s wife and which were from Leonardo’s many sketches of people’s features, including hands. Needless to say that the speculation on the origins and even the meaning of this portrait runs a wide spectrum from having her be the image of an ideal mother (done for a member of the Medici family whose illegitimate son’s mother had died in childbirth) to perhaps a type of self-portrait to show Leonardo’s feminine side (see youtube.com). Whatever the actual history, these hands painted by Leonardo are a work of art in and of themselves.

When standing close up to the painting (yes, in previous years one could go right up to the painting without any barriers, and if it was a visit on a weekday evening, there might not be anyone else standing there!), the hands are so full in dimension and so life-like that they seem to give off warmth. You really feel that if you could touch them, somehow they would feel alive. They rest calmly in her lap, one folded over the other, the fingers of the right hand partly separated, and the skin tones warmly colored, all of which may indeed remind many of their mother or grandmother’s hands. That stroke of universality may be part of the magic that makes the painting great. A well-studied knowledge, shown in this painting by the use of shadows and soft edges coupled with a keen understanding of the structure of the human hand, underlies the ability to create such a life-like rendering. The refinement and beauty of these soft, calm hands make us marvel at them even today.

Michelangelo’s David, close up of hand holding a rock. 1501-1504.

Michelangelo was no slouch when it came to representing the hand (or anything else). In the close-ups above from his statue of David, we see the young underdog. (Underdog? A statue over 17 feet! But just imagine Goliath.) He hides a secret weapon, a common rock, but one he knows how to put to good use. In marble, Michelangelo captures the tension of the moment by showing the veins in the hand standing out. One can almost feel the blood pulsing through, as David surely knew he would have but one chance to bring down his gigantic foe. The side view of the hand with the thumb facing forward is cocked rather casually at his side, the rock well hidden, a ruse to tell Goliath there was nothing to see there. The hands on that statue are out of proportion in terms of their size, but those large hands indicate prowess and strength. In fact, the whole purpose of the statue, which originally stood in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence’s city hall, was as a symbol to all who visited Florence that the city’s energetic and shrewd youthfulness would see it through travails that might overpower others. Florentines were strong, young, capable, and crafty – Beware!

But what about the hand in more modern painting and sculpting? Has its beauty or its subtleties been lost in all our rush to the abstract? Well, just take a look at this wonderful Edward Hopper piece, New York Interior ( 1921)

New York Interior by Edward Hopper, 1921. Whitney Museum of Modern Art.

In this detail of the painting above, we see no thread, yet we can tell by the position of the fingers and the tension in the muscles of the hand and arm that the lady is pulling a thread through the cloth that lies on her lap, perhaps a lovely dress she intends to wear or even the hem of the one she has on. The hollow in her back along the spine is caused by that raised arm and its pulling motion. Writing in an article in the Washington Post, Sebastian Smee calls that hand “electrifying,” going on to say, “there is just enough detail for us to feel securely tethered to the real. The rest has been ruthlessly extracted.” www.washingtonpost.com

Break Up by Andrew Wyeth, 1994.

Andrew Wyeth’s painting of the bronze cast of his hands sitting on the jagged piece of ice being broken up by the swift current of a river is a statement by the artist of the role of those hands in the creation of his works. In fact, he said, “I wish I could paint without me existing – that just my hands were there” (see article on www.bonhams.com). The hands floating away in the ice floe, riding along on something that would one day melt away, indicates a type of dangerous liaison with his art and with nature itself. Wyeth seemingly preferred to be disconnected from his subjects as that allowed his mind to be free to create. Wyeth’s hands seem to be reaching for something, as though they really could work even if disconnected from the rest of him. They are a type of self-portrait in which the hands were so much more important than the face as a lasting symbol of his identity.

Now, we end with the beginning, all those thousands of years ago when the woolly mammoths roamed, and when humans did rituals in caves to reaffirm their existence and their hopes for survival, largely based on how well they could use those wonderful hands. The human hand is a marvel of design and to fully understand it just think of what other creatures on the planet could do if they had our flexible five digits, including that distinctively useful thumb. The prehistoric painters who left their mark in this cacophony of handprints showed their acknowledgement of the value of the human hand. These prints and others found in the caves of our ancestors wherever they appear in the world show us that the human hand has always been a worthy subject for art.

Prehistoric Handprints from Altamira, Spain.


Art works discussed are either in public domain or used in accordance with Fair Use Policy for purposes of discussion, review, and critique.

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.

A real Tuscan Red – Meet Chianti.

Chianti in its familar basket, ready to be hung. www.vinepair.com

Tuscany, home of both Leonardo and Michelangelo, is a premier wine growing region. One of its most famous and popular wines is Chianti. Known for its casing in a straw basket, it has a lot more to offer than just a good wine to have with a slice of pepperoni. According to the Vinepair.com aticle (click above), it is actually hard to find Chianti in straw baskets any more, so I suggest that any Italian restaurants that have a few, keep them as collector’s items. Despite the change in format, Chianti remains one of America’s most popular red wines, and for good reason, as it comes in at least three different forms: Chianti, Chianti Classico, Chianti Riserva, and two sub-types, Colli Senesi and Colli Fiorentini, each of these representing slightly different growing areas and altitudes within the Chianti Region. And yes, Chianti, the wine, bears the name of the region that lies between Florence and Siena, a fertile 100 mile stretch that was often contested between the two rival cities (more on that later).

The wine itself is made from Sangiovese grapes. The name literally means “Blood of Jove” (Jove being another name for Jupiter, the king of the Roman gods). The deep purple grapes produce a rich red wine with the taste of berries, and spices with herbal tones. The lightness and high acidity in Chianti makes it work well with just about any food, but especially well with pizza.

Pizza, the perfect food pairing for Chianti

Chianti Classico and the Chianti Riserva, an aged version of the wine with softer tannins and more spice, but the same fruity, cherry flavors, up the wine’s game quite a bit. These must be made 80% from Sangiovese grapes grown in the region which has an DOCG appellation. The region in fact first got its appellation status in the early 1700s, granted by Cosimo III, Duke of Tuscany. It is hard to get a more authoritative stamp of approval than that. The wine can have a mixture of other red grapes for the remaining 20%. Normally that means an addition of Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon. This blending of reds makes Chianti an Italian rival to Bordeaux. Chianti Classico and Chianti Riserva both pair well with hard cheeses and heavy pasta dishes. One great item to pair with Chianti Classico is the famous grilled steak dish known as bisteccca alla fiorentina. It is an extra thick porterhouse steak, seasoned with simple ingredients and grilled to perfection. Chef Michael Chiarello walks you through the recipe here: www.foodnetwork.com.

Chianit Wine Growing Region, Italy.

As previously mentioned this region has been producing fine wine for centuries. Along with the official acknowledgement from Duke Cosimo III and its current DOCG appellation, Chianti Classico has another mark that brands it as authentic – a black rooster or Gallo Nero.

This mark of distinction goes back beyond Duke Cosimo’s appellation in 1716. The black rooster story dates from the late 1300s and deals with which of two medieval city-states would rule the Chianti valley. Since the valley lies between Siena and Florence, securing it involved ages-old rivalry.

Though they sometimes fought actual armed battles, the two rival cities decided to settle this one more peacefully by having riders get up at dawn on a specific day and start out in the direction of the opposite city, riding through the fields of Chianti. Wherever they would meet, all the land from that point back to their respective cities would belong to that city. The key thing was to be up early on that day. To accomplish this each town decided to have a special rooster be the one to wake up the rider, so he could be on his way early. The Sienese, lovely, elegant, fanciful people, at least as shown in many of their paintings of the time, chose a white rooster which they fed very well. The idea was that he would wake up early to get more food. The Florentines, also elegant in their art but with a strict hard edge about drawing that led to the development of perspective in painting, had a black rooster which they keep on a minimal diet. The idea was that the hungry bird would be crying out for at least some crumbs of food and thus wake the rider very early. Well, they were right. The Florentine rider was out first and by the time he met up with the Sienese rider, that rider had only gone 12 kilometers (about 8.5 miles) outside of Siena. Thus Florence gained hegemony over Chianti and because their rooster was black, that image is found at the top of every bottle of Chianti Classico.

So now you have your basics in Chianti, but before we leave, you must hear the Chianti Song, sung by a trio of rich voices, in an Italian setting, and accompanied by Andre Rieu. If this doesn’t make you feel like throwing a Festa Italia with a nice bottle of Chianti, I don’t know what will. youtube.com

See the Cellars Wine Club page in the right hand column under Pages

If you are in the mood to explore the world through wine and be able to feel extra good about it, try joining one of the wine clubs at Cellars Wine Club. There is a club for every budget, a wide selection of wines, free shipping, and a “no bad bottle” return policy. As well, you can arrange to have 15% of your purchase donated to one of a number of vetted charities through the Give Back Program. Just click here ofartandwine.com.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and  CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming Soon: Uccello, The Battle of San Romano, and Brunello, another Tuscan Red.

One part of the triptych of the Battle of San Romano by Paolo Uccello. Now in the Louvre, Paris, France.

The rivalry between Florence and Siena is legendary, from fields for growing wine to who might control another city’s trade (in the case of the painting above Pisa), these two city-states fought over everything. This battle took place in 1432 and was won decisively by Florence, yet the struggles did not end there. A triptych of the battle was commissioned around 1435 by the Bartolini-Salimbeni family. Yet somehow it wound up years later in the possession of Lorenzo de Medici, and he didn’t buy it. Come find out about this wonderful set of paintings and another Tuscan wine, Brunello.

Watercolorists: Turner, Girtin, Bonington, and a Wine Called Chablis.

The White House at Chelsea, by Thomas Girtin, 1800.

J.M.W. Turner famously said of his friend and fellow artist, Thomas Girtin, that had Girtin survived, he (Turner) would have starved. Such was the high esteem in which Turner held his young friend’s work. Girtin, however, died at the age of 27 in 1802 but not before having been credited with inspiring Romantic watercolor painting. In the painting above, his deft touch of the brush manages to create light airy clouds and smooth shimmering sea waters along with the solidity of that strip of land. Though the buildings are indistinct, one can see a windmill, and a tower or two. However, the main point of distinction is what appears to be a house so white that it leaves a long strip of bright white reflected in the waters. The painting is light and so delicate that it seems as though the colors were put upon the paper in a single breath. Yes, as though the artist drew a breath of air and exhaled this painting with it onto the surface of the paper.

This portrait of Thomas Girtin done by John Opie in 1800 shows the young artist emerging from the shadows, head turned to present only the left side of his face, a paint brush in hand, and a stark white cravat to contrast with the skin tones of his face. His dark hair and clothing fade-to-black into the background, making him both mysterious and romantic, which is quite appropriate for a man who is credited with making watercolor be taken seriously.

Being taken seriously has often been a problem for watercolors. Often seen only as a medium for Sunday dabblers or “for women only” as was the commonly thought in the 18th and 19th centuries, it often has shown up in history only as a way to color in something more important, like a map or an architectural drawing. Yet, just recently a watercolor set a world record purchase price of 10 million British pounds or roughly $12,271,000.00. That painting is The Dark Rigi (1841) by Girtin’s great friend and great rival, J.M.W. Turner ( www.gov.uk).

The Dark Rigi by J.M.W. Turner, 1841

Turner and Girtin were friends in their teens and twenties. They came to know each other as teenagers when they worked coloring in topographical prints with watercolors. The two were known to go out plein air painting sometimes with the express purpose of “skying,” or making paintings of the sky. As young men, it was Girtin who captured the most attention; however, since Turner lived much longer, his skills were able to develop into those that produced the masterpiece shown above. In it Turner pays homage to the friend of his youth with that little line of white in the far left that leaves a long reflection in the water. Turner’s paintings often have a spot of white as a remembrance of Girtin and as a reference to The White House at Chelsea.

The Dark Rigi is one of a set of paintings (there are red and blue versions of the iconic mountain) that Turner painted on a visit to Switzerland’s Lake Lucerne. In it we see how rich and varied the color combinations are. This is very much like the look of his oil paintings which often have tempestuous skies. In fact it has been hypothesized that Turner used watercolor techniques in his oil paintings (perhaps glazes to create the effects of light) and oil painting techniques in his watercolors (look at the overlay of white gouache used to form the clouds and morning mist). One thing for sure, he was no purist. He used what he needed to express what he wanted to say about the scene he was painting. There is some question about whether he always prepared his own paints or whether he used the then new pan colors that came pre-mixed. He certainly was in the forefront of the movement that began taking watercolors seriously which coincided with the production of those manufactured pan watercolors.

Close up from Turner Self Portrait done in 1799.

Britain developed quite a reputation for producing great watercolorists, another one of whom was Richard Parkes Bonington. With Bonington there is a bit of a twist to the story, as he lived most of his life in France though he was born of British parents. That fact allowed his work to be included in the 2009 exhibition, Corot to Monet, French Landscape Painting, held at the National Gallery in London. Bonington’s life like that of Thomas Girtin was short (1802-1828). However, at the time of his death, he was one of the most influential English artists, especially since he was also counted as a French artist who brought English influences into French Romantic painting.

At the English Coast by Richard Parkes Bonington, 1825

Bonington, pictured here in a portrait by Margaret Sarah Carpenter, actually learned his watercolor techniques from studying the works of Thomas Girtin. Perhaps a trace of that training can be seen in the nuances in the handling of the sky in the painting above. His creation of the choppy seas shows skillful usage of tonal variations and the contrast between dark and light to create depth.

Eugene Delacroix (1798 – 1863) first met Bonington in 1817 in Paris, though in 1825 they were known to go plein air painting and even shared a studio for a time. Of Bonington, Delacroix said in a letter, “…no one in this modern school, and perhaps even before, has possessed the lightness of touch, which, especially in watercolors, makes his work a type of diamond that flatters and ravishes the eye…” See the full quote here: www.en.wikipedia.org

So with those wonderful words of compliment from Delacroix, we all must take a look at watercolor with a new vision and one that does not make it play second fiddle to oils. No, painting in watercolor is a world in and of itself and not just for “coloring.”

All works of art used in this art history discussion are in Public Domain.

Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com.

Chablis is not Chardonnay’s less pretty step-sister.

The towers at the entrance to the town of Chablis, France.

Just look at this beautiful picture. Would anyone doubt that there would be fine wine found here? Well, of course, there is good wine here, and it bears the name of this lovely town. However, there is something about Chablis that relates to the title above. It is a wine whose Appellation d’origine controlée requires it to be made only from Chardonnay grapes. So what is the difference between Chablis and its more honored relative Chardonnay? Well, it all has to do with climate and soil. Chablis is produced in northern Burgundy with the best vineyards being on the southwestern slope of hills just north of the town of Chablis. The cooler climate there influences the taste of the grapes that go into the wine and makes them distinct from Chardonnay grapes grown further south in a milder climate. As well, the “terrain” that the grapes grow in is made of clay and chalk, yes, chalk like what the sea cliffs in Normandy and Dover are made out of. This combination produces a dry wine with a flinty or even steely note.

Sometimes Chablis has been called the purest Chardonnay since it is generally made only from Chardonnay grapes. Yet there is a bit of a hangover from the 1980s jug-style Chablis that left people thinking of Chablis as some kind of country cousin to Chardonnay. In fact, Chablis has several distinctive qualities that set it apart. It lends toward dryness rather than to the fruitiness of Chardonnay. It is normally unoaked as it is produced in steel containers, which gives it a light taste that goes well with light fair that is not extremely rich; grilled shrimp is a good example. The good stuff also really has to come from Chablis in France, rather like Champagne comes from the eponymous region there. To get an idea of what goes into creating it, look at this information from Domaine Laroche.

Domaine Laroche is one of France’s premier producers of Chablis and as is common with many of the most celebrated wine producers there is a connection with a religious order. The abbots of Saint Martin started making wine in Chablis in the walls of a monastery called L’Obédiencerie in 867, starting the long tradition of producing Chablis and fine Chardonnay. Since the French Revolution, it has been a private property, but its fine wine making traditions continue. larochewines.com

Four appellations of Chablis exist. The Petit Chablis is very light, good to use as an apéritif or to take on a picnic. It should be served cold, around 45 degrees F. Chablis, which is the most commonly accessible appellation, is very versatile but especially good with seafood like oysters, and with goat cheeses or even with a salad and chicken pot pie. Chablis Premier Cru is fuller bodied but still light compared to a rich oaked Chardonnay. Again it is an excellent choice for seafood, oysters and/or oyster stew, scallops or chicken sautéed in white wine – of course, you would choose Chablis. Both Chablis and Chablis Premier Cru need a bit of a chill, around 50 degrees F. Finally there is Chablis Grand Cru. This is for when you go all out on expense and have it (pricey) with lobster, foie gras, or dishes with rich creamy sauces. This one can be served a bit warmer than the others at 57 degrees F.

Oysters on the half shell, perfect for a chilled, crisp Chablis

So when looking for a really pure experience of the Chardonnay grape, the best bet is to get a good Chablis.

Now in these times of limited travel, it might just be a good time to get your wine-tasting experiences through a wine club. Here I invite you to look at Cellars Wine Club, which has a plan for every budget, free shipping, and a “no bad bottle” return policy. You can take a look here by clicking on the Cellars Wine Club page in the right column or go directly CellarsWineclub.com

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and   CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming Soon on Of Art and Wine: The Hand as a Work of Art and Chianti.

Close up of hands on Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa (c. 1503)

Hands as we know are very important in everyday life, and that means in paintings, too. From the first print of a cave man’s hand left on the cave wall he had painted with wild animals, right down to contemporary versions of the hand, the human hand as seen in art is a rich subject to explore. And what goes better with a Tuscan painter like Leonardo than an exploration of Chianti, Tuscany’s very own red wine.

Painted Animals and Wine + Chile (and not just the country).

Prehistoric illustration of a bull from Lascaux, France. smithsonianmag.com

The author of the Smithsonian Magazine article (linked above) contends that our prehistoric ancestors were much better illustrators of animals than our current artists are. Of course, the title is meant to catch the attention, and the whole article is not a complete slam on the drawing skills of non-prehistoric artists. One thing for sure is that humans have always been keenly aware of the animals that surrounded them. Those prehistoric artists created the beautiful, plentiful herds of animals ostensibly to link themselves mentally to the animals in order to secure a good hunt and plentiful food. They were rather like good military commanders who think like their opponents in order to figure out where those opponents were, and what they were doing.

Ducks and fish in a hunting scene from the Tomb of Menna, c.1422-1411 B.C.

The Ancient Egyptians, of course, seemed to believe that you really could take it all with you. Their tombs in particular were filled with beautiful paintings of the wild life that surrounded them along the river Nile. The representations of the wildlife are highly natural and recognizable for those who know the different species by sight. Once again the focus was on the practical, i.e. how to keep oneself fed for eternity, so the emphasis was on hunting and fishing, with glorious meals to be had afterward.

However, as always with artistry, there are those flights of fantasy that go beyond the more mundane look at our animal neighbors as useful for our physical sustenance. Below is a lovely turn of the imagination depicting a lithe young woman, hair-do perfectly in tact, as she floats along in the waters being pulled by a duck. The item is a cosmetics spoon which allowed one to dip into a variety of powders that could be used to create any woman’s beautiful appearance. Or they could also be used to gracefully throw myrhh on to fires in celebration of the gods or as part of a funerary ceremony. Regardless of how it was used, the lovely image of this delicate swimmer conjures up our fondest fantasies of what life on the Nile might have been.

Ancient Egyptian Cosmetics Spoon 1400-1300 B.C. Now in the Louvre.

Time marches on (and rapidly in this little blog space) to that period in European painting when animals took on symbolic meanings. Little dogs became a symbol for fidelity. One prime example is the little dog present in Jan Van Eyck’s The Arnolfini Marriage Portrait (1434).

This famous portrait is not of a wedding ceremony, but is rather a commemoration of what must have been a lovely marriage. According to Till Holger Borchert, Director of the Bruges Museums and expert on Van Eyck, the painting was done one year after the death of the lady, symbolized by her husband pointing heavenward as he holds her hand and the absence of a lit candle over her head. The little dog is there to symbolize loyalty felt not only in life but clearly here even beyond that.

Animals in Renaissance painting could be highly symbolic of many things. The portrait below is by Leonardo da Vinci, and what would life be without Leonardo? The portrait is supposedly of Cecilia Gallerani, the mistress of Ludovico Sforza, the Duke of Milan from 1480-1494. The young woman holds an ermine. Its calm presence would indicate that it is a domesticated pet not unlike the little dog in Van Eyck’s painting. However, the symbolism here is quite different. Ermine fur was extremely expensive so used by only the wealthy (see Madame Arnolfini’s dress lined in white ermine). The ermine was often seen as a royal animal, which brings us to why Cecilia might have one. It represents her status as the Duke’s favorite.

Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci, c. 1490. Now in the National Museum of Krakow.

But enough of dogs and ermines, let’s get to some horses. Something that goes back a long way is the painting and sculpting of horses. How could Pharaoh possibly ride into battle (at least symbolically) were he not driving his Ferrari of a chariot pulled by two rearing steeds? How could those brave Greek warriors ride into battle (nude!) on anything less than the magnificent horses carved for the Parthenon (now called the Elgin Marbles and in the British Museum)?

Pharaoh Tutankhamun Rides into Battle (c. 1332-1323 B.C.)
Greek Warriors Ride into Battle. From a frieze formerly on the Parthenon in Athens 447-438 B.C.

Obviously, horses have a long history of being a means of transportation, whether in moving from camp to camp, carrying humans from one destination to another or riding soldiers into battle. However, it can easily be seen that their beautiful form and their swift, powerful, but graceful gallop have long been the subject of art. Even though in the telling of the story, they were part of the subtext, their dynamic forms shine through. The story of horse paintings is an art history subject in itself. However, there are those times when the horses themselves have become the main event.

War Pony by Rance Hood for the Trail of Painted Ponies.

Such an event was the Trail of Painted Ponies, which originated in Santa Fe, New Mexico, as the brainchild of Santa Fe native and author, Roy Barker. This venture of having artists express through painting life-size models of horses, which were exhibited, first in Santa Fe, then throughout the nation, became quite the phenomenon. Walking down any street, or through a small plaza, one might turn a corner and be in the presence of one of these fabulous creations. At the end of the exhibitions, the ponies were rounded up and auctioned off, raising over a million dollars for charities (trailofpaintedponies.com). Once again the horse was the vehicle, but this time for ideas and for art.

Wilderness Pony by Mitzie Bower, Pony Tales by Fran Larsen, and Sabanilla Bella by Frederico Virgil

While the painted ponies were the artists’ canvas so to speak, there is such a thing as capturing the essence, dare I say personality, of the animal itself. Colorado Springs artist, Susan Johnson, is an expert at that. A painter of animal portraits, normally her clients’ beloved household pets, she is also a master at presenting the animal as it exists in its own world. Since we are on the subject of horses, look at this winsome beauty, her head seductively turned to look at us over her shoulder.

Wild Mustang by Susan Johnson. Portrait done from a photo gifted by Gary O’Dell.

Johnson speaks of taking up the challenge of “trying to capture the spirit of the animal in paint.” She focuses on how color choices, shapes, and the play of light and shadow help to define a specific animal. In the painting above, the pose of the horse in water makes for a stunning composition. This is not a portrait of the horse as heroic beast, but rather of the animal being itself, enjoying the pleasure of the flow of the stream about its legs and perhaps wondering who we are.

As mentioned, Johnson does portraits of pets, but with attention to capturing the spirit of the animal. In this Portrait of a Collie, the intelligence of the animal is present in its eyes, along with a loving nature. The choice of the blue background contrasts nicely with the browns of the collie’s hair. The traces of blue in the white of its chest hair echoes the background color and adds harmony. The expression in the eyes would be one that anyone with this pet as a household member would love.

To round out this brief look at painted animals and animals in painting, I suggest a viewing of this wonderful little piece of video by art dealer Philip Mould in his Call to the Camera series. It is a series done while in COVID-19 isolation in which he asked his viewers to send in a picture of themselves with a favorite piece of art. This segment is on animals in painting, youtube.com

Humans and the other creatures on the planet have a long history together. Our art shows how important they are and have always been. In future perhaps our appreciation of them in art will help bring us closer to them in a compassionate understanding of one another.

Paintings used in historic discussion are in public domain. Images of the Painted Ponies come from Trail of Painted Ponies website, linked above. Paintings by Susan Johnson are used with the artist’s permission. Johnson can be contacted through this blog at ofartandwine@gmail.com

Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com.

Wine from Chile, and Wine with Chile (Chili)

Vineyard in Chile.

Rugged mountains, sloping valley filled with grape vines, and the remnant of the sun’s rays after they have kissed the growing wine grapes, beautiful isn’t it? Even the name of one of the most popular wines is lovely, Carménère. It is a French name since the vines originated in Bordeaux where the grapes were used in the various melanges that made up the different versions of the regions’ deep red Bordeaux wine. An offshoot of the Cabernet Franc grape, not unlike its siblings, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, the Carménère grape is also a dark-skinned grape and one that has shared in their historic battles with the phylloxera louse.

Ah yes, but as always when growing anything, Nature seeks to feed all of its critters, and that lowly phylloxera louse just happens to like grape vine roots. In fact, the huge 19th century phylloxera contagion that killed off many a vineyard in France was only stopped when American phylloxera-resistant roots were grafted onto the vines.

Unfortunately for Carménère, its roots do not take to grafting, so the grape fell somewhat into disuse in France. Luckily, some years before the contagion, a few Chilean vintners took clippings of what they thought were Merlot grapes and carried the vines off to Chile. As it turned out, most of that haul of “Merlot” grapes were actually Carménère, which took nicely to the growing conditions in Chile, where there was no phylloxera. In fact, 96% of all these grapes are now grown in Chile, making it a Chilean specialty.

Chilean Carménère Photo credit James Suckling

While many of us peruse the shelves in our favorite wine merchant’s store, going first happily to the French and Italian imports, and then possibly to California or Washington wines, how often do we stop to consider Chile’s offerings? A recent article, “$15 Wines That Taste Like $50: Chilean Carménère,” which appears on jamessuckling.com, may very well change your mind. It would be well worth it to give this survivor a taste.

Only in Santa Fe, NM: Wine and Chile Festival

Okay, the first thing to get straight is the spelling. Chile is really the name of a country – you know, the one with the good Carménère wine. Chili is the name of a pepper used to make that wonder of northern Mexican and Southwestern U.S. cooking, chili con carne. However, much of the online information on this 5-day food fest in Santa Fe seems to use the name of the country and not that of the pepper. How these things happen is one of the mysteries of human language; however, I can tell you that the dish is really from the area mentioned above. I say that from my memories of long ago visits to Mexico City where no one at that time knew about such a dish. (I was too far south, I guess.) However, we know about it, and it seems that chili aficionados need only to go to Santa Fe on the last weekend of September to experience it. (Note: This festival along with the celebrated Indian Market have been postponed until 2021 because of COVID 19, but keep a note on your calendar.)

Well, of course, there is nothing like a glass of bubbly to really put oneself in a festive mood. Santa Fe has the answer to that as well, Gruet Winery. With a tasting room located in the Hotel St. Francis, 210 Don Gaspar Avenue in the heart of Santa Fe, one can have fine wine and fine surroundings all in one experience. Mimosa brunches are a specialty offered during the many Santa Fe festivals and of course on holidays. (Check for revised visiting hours.)

But back to the chile – er chili. To get the low down on chili recipes, there is no more authoritative source than Dave DeWitt at fieryfoodscentral.com. In Part 9 of the “The Great Chili Con Carne Project: The Southwest Chili Wars,” he spills the tea on the famous and the infamous in the chili history of the Southwest. However, chili con carne is not all that can be had with great wine. Here in a video to celebrate one of Santa Fe’s annual Chile and Wine Festivals is chef, Todd Hall. He prepares pistachio crusted lamb chops and talks about the festival here on youtube.com.

So, in these days of vicarious experiences and virtual travels, we can all still gather great recipes to cook and get good wines to drink with them. One way to get that wine is to join a wine club. Cellars Wine Club offers a wide variety of wines, including international selections, free shipping, and a “no bad bottle” return policy. With a club for every budget, the Cellars Wine Club page here on ofartandwine.com is worth a look.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and   CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming Soon on Of Art and Wine, Watercolorists: Turner, Girtin, Bonington, and a Wine Called Chablis

The White House at Chelsea by Thomas Girtin, 1800. The Tate Britain.

Watercolors are often thought of as oil painting’s country cousin. You know, not quite up to being real painting. It is rather like the comparisons of Chablis to Chardonnay. However, there is a lot more to these underdogs that makes them well worth consideration.

West Southwest: Bierstadt, O’Keeffe, and Baum – plus Colorado Wines.

Sunset in the Yosemite Valley by Albert Bierstadt, 1868 Haggin Museum, Stockholm, Sweden

Albert Bierstadt’s West

It was called Luminism, a term created by 20th century art historians to cover a style of American painting that started as part of the Hudson Valley School and flourished from 1850-1870. Many of the paintings are quite small and quiet in their pursuit of how to paint light. The idea was to focus on calm, to minimize the trace of brush strokes as a way of limiting the “personality” of the painter, and to capture the effects of light. While some think of this period as a type of American Impressionism, it had nothing to do with Impressionism but instead was influenced by Romanticism. It is that Romanticism that helps explain how Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902), known as a luminist painter, could produce paintings that vary so much from the qualities listed above. The grandeur of the western American landscape, which is quite a bit different from the calm of the Hudson River Valley, played a key role in how his luminism took on a different aspect, one more full of drama and spectacle. It must be noted that Frederick Church, another famous luminist painter and a native of the Hudson Valley, also created large dramatic paintings of the American West. It would seem that the landscape took both of them over.

Albert Bierstadt was born in Germany, but grew up in the United States. At the age of twenty-three, he returned to Germany to study painting in Dusseldorf. Upon his return to the U.S. four years later, he searched for a niche within which to distinquish himself and found it when accompanying a party headed by Frederic Lander that was surveying the Oregon Trail in 1859. Bierstadt learned a lot about the Native American cultures in the area and held a great respect for the people and their culture. He painted Lander’s Peak (1863) which landed him into some notoriety because in the foreground of the painting was an encampment of Native people. Such a peaceful scene of Native people at the time was seen as inappropriate, as Native Americans were not seen as worthy subjects. Bierstadt still wanted to represent the reality of the West that he knew, so he began to use the buffalo as a symbolic substitute to represent the Native Americans and their way of life. In fact, he began to include many of the animals that populated the high mountains of the western U.S., becoming famous for his animal portraits, as well as for a series of butterfly paintings. A true artist, he once took aim with his rifle at a buffalo, but instead put the gun down and took up his paints instead.

Here we have Bierdtadt’s Yosemite Falls (c. 1865) now at the Worchester Art Museum. In this painting, we see his focus on the effects of the light as it penetrates the mist from the falls. The center of the painting that shows the falls and the mountains is shrouded somewhat in a fine haze. The more sharply defined foreground with the stream, trees, and grasses makes for a contrast, though as the trees recede toward the falls, they dim in the mist as well. Here the luminist desire to present light is magnificently shown in how the clouds, falling waters, and mist are handled. As always we still see that sense of drama that comes with so many of Bierstadt’s paintings.

A Storm in the Rocky Mountains, Mt. Rosalie by Albert Bierstadt, 1866 Now at the Brooklyn Museum

This is another dramatic scene captured on a big canvas by Bierstadt. In thinking about his use of the drama of nature, I make a connection to a French painter known for academicism, i.e. paintings of large historical scenes. Jean-Léon Gérome (1824-1904) did not do landscapes, but he is known for rather theatrical, sometimes now called “cinematic” presentations, that propose a dramatic climax as the real subject of the painting. Both painters worked at the same time, so I wonder if something about that appeal to drama also was an influence on Bierstadt. Whatever the case, Albert Bierstadt is one of the great painters of the western landscape, helping to create the romantic allure that drove the idea of moving ever further west. For more on Bierstadt, I recommentd a series called Witness to a Changing West youtube.com

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Southwest

Winter Cottonwoods East V, 1954 Georgia O’Keeffe Oil on canvas 40 x 36 (101.6 x 91.40) Georgia O’Keeffe Museum Gift of The Burnett Foundation (1997.06.024) © Georgia O’Keeffe Museum
Painting used here in accordance with Fair Use Policy for purposes of review, critique and discussion.

In my dining room over a rather rustic side table holding an assortment of colorful dishes and pottery, there is a framed poster of this wonderful O’Keeffe painting. I am always fascinated by the subtleties of the mist and fog shown in this piece. The limited palette of beiges, grays, and browns serves to illustrate just how much can be expressed with skillful use of the tones and shades of just a few colors. Those twisting branches show the age and character of the trees that have struggled through many winters, perhaps with a fallen branch or two as seen in the bottom right corner. Yet, they have survived to fill their branches every year with beautiful green leaves that rustle in the summer breeze and shimmer in the moonlight.

My Backyard by Georgia O’Keeffe 1943 Georgia O’Keeffe Museum, Santa Fe NM. Painting used in accordance with Fair Use Policy for purposes of review, critique and discussion.

Georgia O’Keeffe (1887-1986) was not from the Southwest, but she found her spiritual home to be there. Knowing from the age of 10 or 12 (the stories vary) that she wanted to be a painter, her early academic training in which she learned to copy well the works of famous artists bored her. It made her not want to paint. Luckily for us, she found the work of Arthur Dow, who stated that the main thing in painting was to “fill a space in a beautiful way.” That re-started her on a path which included her initial work from the Southwest, her famous/infamous flower paintings, her New York skyscraper series, and then her later southwestern pieces. Her unique way of filling the space beautifully was by combining abstraction and realism, as can be seen in all the paintings here. The images are recognizable, yet they are uniquely expressive of the artist’s individual voice and world view.

O’Keeffe is famous for her flowers, here Jimson Weed (1936). Her husband, famed photographer and art dealer, Alfred Stieglitz, however, gave them a Freudian interpretation that set the world looking for sexual symbolism in all her work. To counter this, she started a series on the tall buildings of New York City. Stieglitz commented that many male artists had tried to treat New York’s skyscrapers without success, so what did she think she could do with it?

O’Keeffe admits that Stieglitz was difficult, but a wonderful difficult, and she was not to be kept down. Off she went to New Mexico. When asked in later years how she got her husband’s permission to go off like that. She smiled wryly and said, “I didn’t ask him anything; I just went.” Thus she went off and on to New Mexico for many years, staying in a small house at Ghost Ranch and finally buying the hacienda that became her home after Stieglitz died (1946). From those two locations we have the body of work that has become synonymous with O’Keeffe, her southwestern landscapes.

Ram’s Head, White Hollyhock by Georgia O’keeffe, 1935. Brooklyn Museum. Image used here in accordance with Fair Use Policy for purposes of review, critique and discussion. Click on picture to magnify.

In the painting above, we not only see that combination of the realism and abstraction in the rendering of the mountains and clouds, but there is a touch of the surreal in the presentation of the ram’s skull and the hollyhock. They seem like symbols of life and death in the desert. The fluidity seen in the representation of the storm clouds is echoed somewhat in the way the reddish mountains flow across the canvas. We know what they represent, but they are not precisely realistic. Yet the ram’s skull is finely drawn and painted, something that makes it even more of a standout against that fluid background than its position in mid-air.

Cerro Pedernal at Dawn by Georgia O’Keeffe, 1936. Georgia O’Keeffe Museum, Santa Fe, NM. Painting used in accordance with Fair Use Policy for purposes of review, critique and discussion. Clcik on picture to magnify.

Lastly, we have one of O’Keeffe’s many versions of a mountain known as the Pedernal. She said that God promised he’d give it to her if she painted it enough. Nice promise. Once again here we see that special combination of the real and the abstract. The scene is recognizable and the space relationship between the red hills, the green trees, and the distant tabletop mountain create the feeling of distance and dimension. Yet, the roll of the red hills and the different levels of the blue mountains are almost like waves in the ocean. They seem solid yet are susceptible to change. In other words, the hills have a life of their own, and O’Keeffe just kept a good record of it.

To hear O’Keeffe talk about her work, you can find a video series by clicking on this link youtube.com

The Tradition Continues

Downstream Flow – Glen Canyon by Michael Baum. Click on picture to magnify.

Bierstadt and O’Keeffe may be gone, but the tradition of painters who love to capture the marvelous landscape and unusual light of the Southwest lives on. Manitou Springs, Colorado, artist, Michael Baum, works in the fine tradition of western/southwestern painting. An avid hiker, camper, and explorer of the canyons, valleys, and streams of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah, Baum is dedicated to capturing the essence of this colorful and varied area. In particular he focuses on trying to capture the extraordinary light that he finds in this region.

Here we see his attention to the way the sunlight hits the rockface of this canyon, lighting up the cliffs in the foreground while casting the deeper part of the canyon into shadows. He indicates the lowering slant of the sun with a trace of sunlight at the bottom of the cliffs on the left and ties the brightly lit cliffs on the right to the deeper canyon with a slight reflection of violet. The river is steady and calm and seems to flow toward the viewer, spreading out to become wide and welcoming. The canyon walls are steep and no real riverbanks show themselves, just some greenery that is clinging to the rock. Makes one think of where to camp for the night as the afternoon shadows begin to descend.

Morning in the Rockies by Michael Baum

Well, one can take many a fascinating journey when looking at one of Baum’s paintings. In fact, you can take a tour of the southwest in this webstory made from Baum’s paintings of the Southwest: ofartandwine.com/webstories

For more of his work and his personal journey as an artist go to “Michael Baum: Pursuing the Landscape” at vernellestudio.com and to michaelbaum.com. The good thing to know is that the physical heritage of the American West and Southwest have served and will continue to serve as inspiration for painters who pursue and capture its glory to share with the rest of us.

Paintings by Bierstadt are in Public Domain. O’Keeffe’s paintings are copywrited to her estate and used in accordance with Fair Use Policy. Baum’s painting is used with the artist’s permission.

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.

“Colorado Wines – Not An Oxymoron”

Yes, I borrowed that title (or quoted it) from an article that appears in the Wine Spectator, winespectator.com. Admittedly, when one thinks of wines in the United States, the first go-to place is the West Coast: California, Oregon, Washington. You know, those lovely fertile valleys blessed with sea breezes, but no, we are talking about the Rocky Mountains! Yes, I have a big scoop for you. Not only is there a lovely wine-growing region in Colorado, but there are also some very fine wines that are being generated in two areas near the city of Grand Junction. The western slope of the Rockies at about 5,400 to 6,400 feet above sea level provides high altitude, hot days, low rainfall, and rich volcanic soil, which in Grand Valley (east of Grand Junction) means a superb Cabernet Franc and an equally delicious Merlot. A smaller area, a bit more mountainous, is West Elk, part of the North Fork Valley. It does well with white grapes and thin-skinned grapes. Gerwurtztraminer is one of the prime products, though Pinot Noir grapes grow well there, too.

Award Winning Wines from LeRoux Creek Vineyards Photo from lerouxcreekvineyards.com

So you are still skeptical? Well, no one knows wines like a Frenchman from Provence, and Yvon Gros, owner of Leroux Creek Vineyards is that Frenchman. Gros found the North Fork Valley near the town of Hotchkiss, Colorado, to be remarkably like Provence. Gros and his wife, Joanna, first came to the area in 1999. They started a bed and breakfast then went into growing grapes and making wine. That effort has turned into the Leroux Creek Inn and Vineyards, a place that has not only lovely accommodations, but also good wines and excellent dining opportunities. Monsieur Gros generously offers a few good recipes on the Leroux Creek website, one of which he demonstrates in a video: http://lerouxcreekvineyards.com/from-the-kitchen-paella/. Being from Provence, he naturally found a way to make a rosé, as rosé is the wine of Provence. Described as having “lovely flavors and aromas of cherry and strawberry,” Rosé de Leroux pairs well with “tapas, grilled chicken and salad.” lerouxcreekvineyards.com

Another place of interest in the North Fork Valley is Jack Rabbit Hill Farms. Here the speciality seems to be Riesling. Uniquely, they are also a USDA certified organic and biodynamic winery. Their motto is “Old School, New World.” Check out their story and their wines here jackrabbithill.com. However, I dare not leave out the Grand Valley area, which is the larger of the two primary growing areas. There you find the possibility of doing a real wine tour through a number of vineyards with wine tasting opportunities. The Grand Valley Winery Association offers its Barrel Into Spring event, currently scheduled for May 16-17, which will present barrel tastings and gourmet food pairings. The best way to get an idea of how to navigate Grand Valley is to look at the information on the Visit Grand Junction website. I provide a link here that goes directly to the wineries and tasting section of their website, visitgrandjunction.com.

The Wines of Colorado says it all. Photo from winesofcolorado.com

For those of us and any of you who travel to Colorado but do not make it to the Western Slope of the Rockies, just drive down I-25 from Denver about 60 miles to Colorado Springs, then take HWY 24 10 miles west up into the hills to Cascade. There you will find The Wines of Colorado, which has wines from 95 Colorado wineries, the largest selection of Colorado wines in the state. They provide a great menu, currently available for take-out, but served normally in their creekside restaurant. All the details can be found at winesofcolorado.com.

The western United States has lots to offer, like great art showing majestic mountains, colorful cliffs and canyons, and stunning vistas. Add to that some locally produced wine for, dare I say, a Rocky Mountain high (but only in moderation), and you might just move to Colorado.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and   CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming soon on Of Art and Wine: Painted Animals and Wine + Chile (and not just the country).

Detail of Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci, 1490. Portrait of a Collie by Sue Johnson.

People love their pets and that is something that dates far back in history to those first animals that humans domesticated. From animals that feature in the portraits of the famous and animal portraits used to express human folly to portraits of pets and the famous Trail of the Painted Ponies Exhibition in Santa Fe, NM, pets have a fascinating artistic history. And since we talk of Santa Fe, how about exploring wine and chile (a more interesting combination than you might think).

Wayne Thiebaud’s San Francisco and Napa Valley Wines.

San Francisco: 24th Street Intersection, Wayne Thiebaud, 1977. Watercolor on paper

Yes, I know. San Franciscans insist that this is not a real intersection, but as Wayne Thiebaud says of his work, he makes “conscious decisions to include or exclude details, put in personal experiences and perceptual nuances to give the paintings more of a multi-dimension…” artnet.com. Here one has to say that the “perceptual nuances” carry the day. Being able to look downhill onto the top of a building as your brakes burn while your car slides down this precipice is a distinctly San Francisco experience, as well demonstrated by Thiebaud here. My personal experience involved the hill at Taylor and California, a hill so steep that the accompanying sidewalk has steps to help pedestrians climb. I remember anxious moments when my car had to stop for the red light before I crested the hill. There I would sit with both the brakes and the handbrake engaged to help fight gravity. A grand view of the sky was all that was before me while I endured an interminable wait for the green light.

But back to Thiebaud’s painting, where we can see the combination of all of his fine skills, as well as his perceptions and experiences. Thiebaud started as a youngster with stage design and poster art, even doing a summer apprenticeship at Disney Studios. Born in 1920, by the time he was ready to start a career, the Great Depression had been going on for quite a while, so his original love for fine art turned to the practicality of commercial art. It wasn’t until after World War II and when he was in his 30s that he decided to go into fine art, earning both a B.F.A. and an M.F.A. from what are now California State Universities at San Jose and Sacramento respectively. That commercial art background, however, can be seen in the finely drawn buildings and in the design of the painting above. Thiebaud expresses great respect for commercial artists, saying, “Those wonderful people showed me what to do – sign painters, women’s fashion illustrators. There’s lots of craft in it and that is admirable.” (quote from theartstory.org)

Thiebaud gives the viewer much more than a look at the dizzying heights. His use of a sharp diagonal from left to right, with that “catch your breath” flat intersection before you continue on downhill, slips the eye quickly across the whole painting. As you look straight ahead, your upcoming descent is cut off from view by the sharp gash 24th street makes through the descent of the hillside, which echoes that of the street (Mariposa?) that crosses in front of you. Looking straight ahead is what you must do to keep any sense of balance when viewing this painting. If you let that sharp diagonal catch you, you begin to slide right off the edge of the picture plane. No wonder Vertigo was partially filmed in San Francisco.

Thiebaud does give us a bit of a break by his use of rather calming colors. The streets are in pale green-gray or blue-gray, and the sky is an overcast beige with a hint of pearly gray. Nothing to further excite the nerves there. The yellow double lines on the street indicate that there was some order intended in the construction of these streets. The power lines add another touch of humans imposing themselves on nature, as do the buildings. Yet, the whole thing is precarious as only a few grasses, four trees and these concrete streets hold that hillside in place. The slightest rumble in the earth (this is San Francisco, after all) could bring the whole thing crashing down. However, in the meantime, some semblance of order is maintained by the grid of the streets, which serves as a trailblazing marker telling drivers, “Yes, you can do this.”

The Ripley Street Ridge (1976) is another of Thiebaud’s vertiginous San Francisco landscapes. In someways, the fact that he represents this day of sunshine on pastel colored houses backed by a bright blue, fogless sky seems more like a reminiscence of his childhood in Los Angeles. Yet we have that San Francisco touch of the hillside that disappears into thin air. The street is populated by shadows, each outline indicating the distinct personality of the dwelling involved.

Wayne Thiebaud spent time in New York in the mid-to-late 1950s where he came to know Wilhem de Kooning, Robert Rauschenberg, Franz Kline, and Jasper Johns. It was there where he began the works that he is most famous for, paintings of cakes, pies, and other sweet treats. However, his work can’t really be classified as part of the Pop Art that came in the 1960s. That has to do with his fine selection of details to leave in and ones to leave out and the creation of that feeling of multi-dimension. “This results in a kind of abstraction and thus avoids the pitfalls of mere decoration.” (Thiebaud quote from artnet.com)

In recent years, Thiebaud has done a wonderful series of California paintings that include rivers, mountains and cities. In terms of the diversity in his painting, which also includes figures and portraits, Thiebaud says, “I don’t make a lot of distinctions between things like landscape and figure painting because to me the problems are the same – lighting, color, structure and so on – certainly traditional and ordinary problems.”theartstory.org

My first love, as a former San Franciscan, will always be his wonderful paintings of The City. No one captures its unusual topography and that particularly San Franciscan idea of living on the edge better that Thiebaud. One painting that can give a full appreciation of this wild and unusual mix is Civic Center (1986). Tall buildings, tall hills, the “Crookedest Street” and everything vertical, welcome to San Francisco!

Civic Center by Wayne Thiebaud, 1986. Oil on Canvas

There are some wonderful articles on Thiebaud’s new series of paintings like “City, River and Mountain: Wayne Thiebaud’s California” editions.lib.umn.edu For a discussion of his other work, as well as the San Francisco paintings, here is a video done by Smithsonian Magazine youtube.com To see Thiebaud talk about another artist’s work, see this video of the artist talking about The Horse Fair by Rosa Bonheur (1855), which he did as part of The Artist Project. youtube.com

Images’ copyright Wayne Thiebaud and used here according to Fair Use Policy only for purposes of critique, review and discussion.

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

Napa Valley Wine, Real and Virtual!

Napa Valley Vineyards Photo by David Mark on Pixabay visitnapavalley.com
Domaine Carneros in the Los Carneros region of the Napa Valley Photo from domainecarneros.com

The Los Carneros region spans both the Napa and Sonoma Valleys. Though grapes for wine have been grown in the area since the 1830s, the famous Petaluma Gap in the mountains leaves this area subject to the cool, wet winds from the Pacific Ocean. In the early 20th century, Prohibition and an infestation of phylloxera, an aphid that feasts on the roots of grape vines, caused it to come late to the boon in Napa Valley wines. However, the area has played a good game of catch up since the 1970s. The famous French champagne company, Taittinger, created the masterpiece we see here in 1987 when it purchased its first acreage in the valley. It focused on Brut and Blanc de Blancs sparkling wines using the méthode traditionelle, with their La Rêve Blanc de Blancs being their dream (la rêve) of a premium sparkling wine. However, they also specialize in making Pinot Noir, that most drinkable of reds. Visit their website for more information domainecarneros.com.

The entrance to Domaine-Chandon near Yountville in the Napa Valley. domainechandon.com

I am sure you have guessed by reading some of the posts in this blog that I love sparkling wines, and yes, we here in the U.S. can call ours champagne because we did not sign a treaty allowing only the French Champagne region to use that title (bad on us/good on us). Among Napa Valley champagne producers, my heart belongs to Domaine Chandon. Partially this is because many years ago (that’s all I shall say about that), my landscape paintings were shown in their very lovely Etoile Restuarant, where the walls between the vast windows that looked out onto the vineyards held my landscape views of the valley countryside.

California/Provence by Marjorie Vernelle See vernellestudio.com

Domaine Chandon was started in 1973 by Moet et Chandon, another famous maker of champagne from France. They created not only excellent sparkling wines in Brut and Rosé styles, to which they give the name étoile or “star” but also still wines, including Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier. The last two come from the Los Carneros vineyards.

Sterling Vineyards sits high on a hill, but with a funicular car to take you up the hillside.

Those wonderful hills along the eastern side of the Napa Valley hold treasures. One of them is Sterling Vineyards. High on a hill with a commanding view of the whole valley, it sits in pristine white, like a modern version of a medieval mountaintop monastery. Like many of those old monasteries, it makes wonderful wine. While they make white wines, it is their reds that take center stage. From Merlots to Cabernets to Sangiovese, Sterling reds are just that -sterling – and of course, the view isn’t half bad either.

Entrance to the Auberge du Soleil Photo from https://aubergeresorts.com

The Auberge du Soleil has to be my number one pick for the finest view of the valley from the best hilltop location. The drive down the Silverado trail is quite fun in itself as it offers a different route through the valley than does HWY 29. Yes, it is a resort, and it must certainly be high on the list of A-list visitors, as from the terrace where one can have fine wine and delightful appetizers, one sees helicopters flying these special guests in and out. No, I never stayed there, but it was a favorite place to take visiting guests or simply to visit with a friend at the end of a Napa Valley day. Just take a look at the view from the terrace.

Auberge du Soleil (The Inn of the Sun) Napa Valley. https://aubergeresorts.com/aubergedusoleil/

Of course, one could always also spend time in the lovely town of St. Helena, which over the years has become more and more like a California version of Provence, with lovely shops and such a cozy feeling. Not far away is Calistoga, a town with a really western feel and wonderful hot springs and mud baths. It is not a bad jumping off point for a wine touring mini-vacation. You can take glider plane rides across the valley, easily drive to wineries for tastings, and come back for a mudbath and massage.

Now for the moment, we have to do this wine tour virtually, but you will see that the wineries are offering virtual wine tastings, so check that out when you visit their websites. In the meantime, another way to enjoy good wine is to join a wine club. Take a look here on the right under Pages at Cellars Wine Club, or click here to go directly to their website cellarswineclub.com. You get free shipping, a wide variety of selections and a “no bad bottle” return policy. Note: I am an associate of Cellars Wine Club and may earn from qualifying purchases.

Thus ends my trip down memory lane shared with you in wholehearted affection and love of good wine and beautiful vineyards. Next we will be off to the West and Southwest, the land of fabulous skies, blue-violet mountains, and gorgeous paintings.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and  CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Coming next on OfArtandWine.com: West Southwest – Bierstadt, O’Keeffe, and More, plus Colorado Wine.

Downstream Flow Glen Canyon by Michael Baum See michaelbaum.com

Please don’t think that Southwestern painting stopped with O’Keeffe. Just look at this beauty by Manitou Springs, Colorado, artist, Michael Baum. He is just continuing the tradition.

Carel Fabritius’ Beloved Goldfinch and Netherlands Wine.

The artist’s signature and date say it all. The painting now resides in the Mauritshuis Museum in The Hague, Netherlands

The silent little bird, chained to his perch, may have been a witness to what happened that day, October 12, 1654. I imagine that the artist, Carel Fabritius, had the subject of this painting somewhere in his studio. His studio, a rambling old building in an area of warehouses, was a place where the rent was cheap and the space ample – every artist’s dream. The only great misfortune was that it was right beside the Delft Gunpowder Depot, where on that day in 1654, someone’s careless match blew up not only the depot but a full one quarter of the city of Delft. Fabritius, his goldfinch, and most of his artistic production didn’t have a chance. Recent examination of the painting of the little bird, The Goldfinch, would seem to indicate that the painting was in the studio that day, as it contains tiny bits of debris traceable to the explosion. Luckily for future generations it survived, as it not only is one of the few works left by this young master painter, but it may also be a link in a chain that would connect Rembrandt to Vermeer.

Here we have the young artist in 1645 at the age of 23. Carel Pietersz Fabritius (1622-1654) was born in a small village in northern Holland in the Dutch Republic. Son of a painter, he started his career in the arts as a carpenter. However, by 1640 he had moved to Amsterdam and joined the studio of Rembrandt, where he became one of the best painters in that master’s studio and the only one who went on to develop his own style. It is that style which has researchers wondering about his influence on another great painter from the period, Johannes Vermeer.

The subject is an interesting one to explore, starting with those paintings we have by Fabritius that show the influence of Rembrandt. Rembrandt was known for dark backgrounds, and rich colors, as well as dramatic compositions. We can see Fabritius adhering to that formula in his portrait above, with a rather murky background, the dramatic flash of red clothing, and a bit of a scowl on his face. Rembrandt used heavy impasto treatments, especially on garments. His use of impasto was revolutionary at the time and that influence on Fabritius can also be seen, though used differently.

Here we see the richly textured sleeve of the man in Rembrandt’s The Jewish Bride, c. 1665. Rembrandt used a special mix of minerals and lead white to build up the surfaces in his paintings, giving a 3D effect and allowing light and shadow extra play in his paintings. art-critique.com. Compare this to Fabritius’ light touch in the close-up below.

Close up of The Goldfinch with brushstrokes that indicate the fluff of the feathers with a slight use of impasto to provide texture. The rugged quality of the wall also shows Fabritius’ use of impasto, lightly applied.

In 1648 Fabritius left Rembrandt’s studio to go his own way. That led him to move to Delft in 1650 where he became a member of what is known as the Delft School, which included Vermeer. It has long been speculated that Vermeer may have been a student of Fabritius, though it has not conclusively been proven. What is known is that in the early 1650s Vermeer turned toward his famous domestic scenes. They are famous for their stillness, and for capturing a moment in time focused on the beauty of the ordinary, often with light backgrounds and the use of impasto, like here in the crusts of bread on the table in The Milkmaid c. 1654.

The Milkmaid by Johannes Vermeer, c. 1654.

We can see here in this Fabritius’ Portrait of Abraham de Potter done in 1649 that he had not only left Rembrandt’s studio but also his use of dark backgrounds and dramatic poses. Fabritius moved toward lighter backgrounds and quieter, less dramatic, more contemplative poses for his subjects. This subject’s thoughts are quite likely far away. He is as calm in his portrait pose as the maiden pouring milk in Vermeer’s painting. Just another thing to do that day.

The most interesting thing in all these suppostions about Fabritius and Vermeer is that the newly renovated Mauritshuis Museum has chosen to pay special attention to two of these artists’ works. Before the renovation they each hung on walls full of other paintings, and while one could get up close to study them, there was always the distraction of some other old master hung nearby. Now The Goldfinch is on a wall by itself, and Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring has also been separated from the madding crowd of old masters.

The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius, 1654 and The Girlwith the Pearl Earring, Johannes Vermeer, 1665

Here we see them side-by-side. Fabritius has his uncluttered light background. Vermeer has gone both Rembrandt, and Fabritius one step further by having a black background. In each the limited backgrounds serve to focus the viewer on the subject of the piece. What links these two paintings is their simplicity, along with their real subject: silence. The goldfinch may have just chirped a lovely tune; the girl may have just spoken. However, in this moment there is just the silence. It is that silence that seems to me to be the real subject of the painting. If that is so, then even though they are of material beings, these paintings deal with the immaterial. Silence is the most immaterial of all things, as you cannot touch it, smell it, taste it or see it. You can’t even hear it, for it makes no noise.

So while we may never know what the link is between Fabritius and Vermeer exactly, we are left with the supposition that Fabritius, being Rembrandt’s best student, took from him important technical learning like the use of impasto, before he went on to create his own style of quieter, more contemplative paintings like The Goldfinch. Fabritius and Vermeer were both in the same group of painters in Delft and likely to have known one another well. Vermeer’s turn to his now famous quiet domestic scenes happened after Fabritius’ arrival in Delft, with one of his first, The Milkmaid, painted in 1654 showing signs of that 3D impasto that Rembrandt was so famous for (see those bread crumbs). The connections are more than possible but the evidence? Well, perhaps we will never know because the evidence disappeared along with Fabritius and his work when the Gunpowder Depot exploded.

Close up of the bread crumbs in Vermeer’s the Milkmaid (1654)

Paintings used here are in public domain.

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.

What? Netherlands Wine!

Vineyards in Limburg in the southern part of the Netherlands. Photo from Dutch Wines holland.com

The country known as the Netherlands is a country that has always known struggle. Its lands have been reclaimed from the sea and have sometimes had to be sacrificed again when the Dutch people have opened their sluices to fend off invading armies (like that of Louis XIV in the Franco-Dutch War 1672-1678). Simon Schama, the historian, wrote a wonderful book about the formation of what is sometimes called The Dutch Republic. In The Embarrassment of Riches, he details how this consortium of seven different states formed itself through its 80-some years of battles with Spanish overloads and its many years of battles with the sea to become a trading superpower in the 17th century. So much was it the envy of the rest of Europe that countries with more high and mighty attitudes about themselves called this small gathering of countries the “Low Countries.” Yes, they were low-lying countries easily invaded by the sea, but one can sense the pejorative snear. Even the current name of the Netherlands indicates a certain distance, as though this nation which is right on the doorstep of Germany and France is somehow far away in some nether world.

With conditions like that, it is easy to see how the people of this republic would become hearty and perservering, qualities much valued by its Protestant religious base. Though they dressed in black and white as befitted their religious persuasion, they did not, however, eschew the fineries of life and that included wine. Their involvement with wine goes right back to the middle ages. In their trading heyday, they brought vines to what is now South Africa in a successful attempt to find good soil for growing grapes. At home, their own cold climate was a disaster for grapes like Merlot, and making Cabernet Sauvignon was impossible. However, Chardonnay, Riesling, Pinot Gris and Pinot Blanc grapes grow nicely in the cold and thus was born the Netherlands wines. They continue to experiment with different varieties and have some 180 commercial vineyards, mostly in the far southern area of Limburg and in the sandy soil of Gelderland.

An Antique Dutch hand-blown, onion wine bottle from th 1700s Photo from Worthpoint

While beer has always been a drink more easily associated with the Dutch, in the 17th century, it was not uncommon for the women in the household to go to the wine cellars to select just the right wine for special occasions like weddings. One sees famous paintings by the likes of Vermeer in which men and women share a glass of wine in the intimate settings inside a house. (See “Seduction and Vermeer’s The Glass of Wine,” ofartandwine.com). One of his famous pieces seems in fact to be a warning about consuming too much, as we see below in this picture of a servant girl who has perhaps drowned her sorrows in wine. (The empty wine glass is barely visible, but it is there along with the white wine jug.)

A Maid Asleep by Johannes Vermeer, 1656-1657. Metropolitan Museum N.Y. metmuseum.org

So what is the future for these unlikely wines?

Wines were prominent in the famous Dutch banquet paintings done by such greats as Pieter Claesz (see OfArtandWine.com). Like today’s Dutch they favored Rieslings and Chardonnay, most of which were imported. For more on this period of Dutch involvement with wine, I suggest a spirited article from the National Gallery of Art called “Dutch Burghers and Their Wine: Nary a Sour Grape.” nga.gov. Now the Dutch can produce their own and currently produce rosé wines as well. As lovers of wine, though they can import, it is all the more valient that they have decided to grow their own.

Cathy Huyghe in her article for Forbes Magazine, “Wine from the Netherlands? Believe it – This New Book Explains Why,” talks of the struggles in the development of Dutch wines including experimentation with the taste of the wine. She admits that she never brings bottles of wine home in her suitcase but has recently found several types in Amsterdam that she, yes, carried home in her suitcase.

This is a picture of The Dutch Wine Museum. I take this as a good indication about the seriousness with which the Dutch take their wine. Over the coming years, I am sure they will be adding many bottles of their own production.

For those of us who will not be traveling soon to Europe to taste the various wines available there, another solution is possible: join a wine club. You can look at the details of one here in the pages, just click the link ofartandwine.com to find out about Cellars Wine Club.

Of Art and Wine affiliates with Bluehost.com and  CellarsWineClub.com and may earn from qualifying purchases.

©marjorie vernelle 2020

Wayne Thiebaud’s San Francisco and Napa Valley Wines.

Well, there it is, the monster of San Francisco hills, the Ripley Street Ridge. Here it is captured by the artist who immortalized any number of San Francisco landscapes, Wayne Thiebaud. Thiebaud was not adverse to landscapes that were not in the city, as his paintings of California’s fields, streams and mountains show. With a visit to the nearby Napa Valley, one has a perfect pairing of art and wine.

Ripley Street Ridge, 1977, private collection, copyright Wayne Thiebaud. To be used for purposes of review and critique in accordance with Fair Use Policy.

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