Who Gets To Call it Art, John Constable or Charlton Heston? I've been watching a lot of 50s and 60s Hollywood movies lately like The Fall of the Roman Empire, Ben-Hur, Spartacus, etc. I never saw those movies when they first came out so I thought it was time to catch up. And, of course, I'll read, watch, hear, or smell anything that has the remotest connection to the Roman Empire, my favorite period of history. So, in that vein, although a millenia away from that time period, I Netflixed The Agony and the Ecstasy starring Charlton Heston and Rex Harrison, two icons of the silver screen. Of course, we are all familiar with Michelangelo's obsession and anguish with painting the Sistine Chapel (the snippet of Irvine Stone's book that this film covers). Nevertheless, it is interesting to see the relationship between Michelangelo and his patron/protagonist Pope Julius II fleshed out. Nothing in the dialogue sounded phony—the words coming out of their mouths were believable as the actual conversations that took place.
I also enjoyed watching the progression of the painting, from the drawings on paper to the transfer of the outlines to the ceiling, to the application of paint. Watching Charlton Heston painstakingly make those brush strokes while sitting and lying in those awkward positions, it is inconceivable that Michelangelo was able to complete the entire ceiling. Although he had assistants to mix the paint and clean up, he made the decision to paint the whole thing himself.
A few years ago I had the good fortune to stand and stare at the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Our tour guide whisked us through at breakneck speed, apparently so she could maximize the time we spent in the Vatican souvenir store, and hence, her commissions on our purchases. So my friend and I decided to return on our own at the end of the two-week tour through Italy. Whereas the first time through we had been more concerned with keeping up with our guide's red flag than soaking anything in, this time we were able to find a place to sit and contemplate the ceiling in all its glory. I wish now I had seen the movie before viewing the ceiling, as it would have been fun to imagine Charlton Heston way up there on the scaffolding, and even more amazing to contemplate Michelangelo's vision. But obviously, that is my 20th century mindset—and perhaps it was, after all, better to see it for its own beauty and not through the eyes of a Hollywood film.
Aside from the painting of the ceiling and the relationship between the painter and the pope, I was struck by the fact that Julius II acted more like a military general than a religious leader. Apparently at that time, the Catholic church was into empire building, spreading Christianity much like the British Empire spreading "civilization" and the US spreading "democracy," by military might. History turns out to be nothing more than a change of clothes and vocabulary after all.
If you enjoy art, or history, or both, The Agony and the Ecstasy is not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.
I also enjoyed watching the progression of the painting, from the drawings on paper to the transfer of the outlines to the ceiling, to the application of paint. Watching Charlton Heston painstakingly make those brush strokes while sitting and lying in those awkward positions, it is inconceivable that Michelangelo was able to complete the entire ceiling. Although he had assistants to mix the paint and clean up, he made the decision to paint the whole thing himself.
A few years ago I had the good fortune to stand and stare at the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Our tour guide whisked us through at breakneck speed, apparently so she could maximize the time we spent in the Vatican souvenir store, and hence, her commissions on our purchases. So my friend and I decided to return on our own at the end of the two-week tour through Italy. Whereas the first time through we had been more concerned with keeping up with our guide's red flag than soaking anything in, this time we were able to find a place to sit and contemplate the ceiling in all its glory. I wish now I had seen the movie before viewing the ceiling, as it would have been fun to imagine Charlton Heston way up there on the scaffolding, and even more amazing to contemplate Michelangelo's vision. But obviously, that is my 20th century mindset—and perhaps it was, after all, better to see it for its own beauty and not through the eyes of a Hollywood film.
Aside from the painting of the ceiling and the relationship between the painter and the pope, I was struck by the fact that Julius II acted more like a military general than a religious leader. Apparently at that time, the Catholic church was into empire building, spreading Christianity much like the British Empire spreading "civilization" and the US spreading "democracy," by military might. History turns out to be nothing more than a change of clothes and vocabulary after all.
If you enjoy art, or history, or both, The Agony and the Ecstasy is not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.
Two other films I rented recently, both documentaries, are Who Gets to Call it Art? and The English Masters: Constable. The first was the biography of an art critic I never heard of before (not that I am familiar with many art critics), Henry Geldzahler, the very first curator of contemporary art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Oh, so now I know who to blame! Just kidding, folks. Geldzahler was born independently wealthy—how unfair is that? But it seems he was also born knowing what he wanted to do with his life, and rather than sitting around being rich all day, he went out and did it. He was unusual as an art critic in that he mingled with the artists of the day, had intimate platonic and sexual relationships with some, and both treated and was treated by the artists as an equal. His friends were Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns and others of their ilk. Artistic luminaries such as David Hockney and Frank Stella, also his pals and two of my favorites, contributed interviews to the film along with others.
Geldzahler was one of the first people to consider "pop" art as fine art. While I don't always share his enthusiasm, I understand the contributions this genre has made to the world of art, and I admire him for being true to his convictions, as he genuinely believed in these artists and their work. Geldzahler died of cancer at the age of sixty. The organizer to the end, Hockney relates that Henry was carried downstairs from his sickbed so he could re-arrange a few objets d'art in his living room—he loved and understood the relationships between things. He was then carried back upstairs and died shortly thereafter.
The second documentary about John Constable, the English landscape artist, has a more personal meaning to me. On a trip to England a few years ago, some friends took me to Constable Country in Suffolk (see photo above). I have to admit, I wasn't that interested in Constable's art at the time. But after seeing his paintings and being able to relate them to the part of the country that he mostly painted, I became a fan. Landscape art was not very popular at the time (the early 1800s) as the money was in portraits. But as time went by, his landscapes were recognized as great works of art, leading to his acceptance, rather late, by the Royal Academy. His beloved wife died shortly after delivering their seventh child and Constable spent the rest of his life (he died at 60) dressed in black, painting, and raising his children. He rejected the popular notion that artists should use their imaginations, and instead painted what he saw in nature, and was probably the first plein air painter in oils. His sketches, expressions of what he saw at the moment, had a great influence on the later impressionists. As for me, I thoroughly enjoyed walking through the area that was his inspiration. The temperature was in the mid-eighties on that trip, with humidity and insects to match. As there is a lot of water in the area, I wondered if Constable had to deal with mosquitoes as he sat out in the fields sketching!
(Photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)
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