Week Six

Henri Matisse’s “Blue Nude: Souvenir at Biskra” is an obvious departure from the female nudes of the past. She’s blue. This painting isn’t attempting to be a convincing allusion.  She is blue after all. Her features are idealized in an unrealistic fashion – she looks like the unachievable female form of a drawn figure – meant to be erotic, but not meant to be interpreted as reality. On top of that, her face is ambiguous, not making any contact with the viewer as though to assure the viewer there isn’t any sense of personal self-awareness or self-worth or intelligence inside this female body. The subject isn’t a real human being.

This blue woman reminds me most of Manet’s “Olympia,” especially because of the flattening outlines Matisse used.  The body is laying down, and the face is blankish, making sure there isn’t a possibility for the viewer to make a personal connection.  Manet’s “Olympia” may be looking directly at the viewer, but she still is determined to keep the viewer from wanting to make a personal connection. Mostly she is only daring the viewer to do what they came for and get it over with. However, though both nudes refuse to make that personal connection, Manet’s is aggressive while Matisse’s is submissive. The blue woman shape doesn’t try to fight her destiny to be looked at and twists herself to introduce more eroticism. Also, Matisse may have been looking back to Manet concerning how to break away from formal depictions of female nudes, this work doesn’t have any social commentary attached to critique the modern lifestyles of “Modern Europe.” As we can see with the noticeable lines and bright colors, Matisse’s nude is more about stretching beyond formal conventions than social implications.

Aside from the outlines, brushstrokes are visible, and colors are chosen to be lifelike. The colors, not intent of depicting reality, are used for mood or expression. Each hue is the artist’s personal choice with no regard for the predetermined colors in real life vision.  She’s blue. And the scene she’s in is fairly ambiguous also, since the colors and lines are so much more dedicated to creating a mood than describing a location for the figure.

Primitivism influences are present. Since the painting is such as push away from previous formal conventions, it has to be going in the direction of something else. That direction greatly resembles the Primitivism movement. It presents the exotic form of a larger, robust woman, outside in the lap of Mother Nature (or at least I think that’s what’s going on) referencing the fertility of the woman. This emphasizes the need to survive and procreate, leading the viewer to a more instinctual state of mind. And then there’s the title: “Souvenir of Biskra.” Whether or not the artist himself gave the title, it implies 1) a naked woman posing serves as a souvenir from a colorful holiday and 2) the artist took a holiday in order to experience the area, the women, and/or the painting of the women. It isn’t depicting a “modern” European woman (or girl), but a lower minded creature of an instinctual, primitive world. It definitely says to me that the artist painted whatever he wanted to see, not what was socially or even formally acceptable.

Week Five

                If we were to judge by the works of Caillebotte that we have been looking at, we could say the "modern" cityscape replaces the Parisian's need for nature.  The new city was admirable and a marvel. It deserved recognition, and the architecture was worth looking at and painting. In the works we looked at, citizens went for strolls in the city, on the street, looked down from a building -- they did not have people out for walks in the woods or enjoying a lakeside. Caillebotte did paint some situations outside the realm of city life, be it out in a lake or garden or inside a home.  But the city provided so much potential for man to create and dominate. The modernization of Paris was a conscious decision to represent the capabilities of man.  A lot of it was dependent on only one man, making it even more awe-inspiring. The idea of man wandering about Paris was supposed to infer that the man can do anything, accomplish what he wants and experience life. The new modern city meant that life and living was supposed to be easier. Caillebotte painted cityscapes that effectively described the awesomeness of the new Paris.

                But then, Caillebotte used human subjects that resented the opposite reaction from mankind.  Paris advancements seemed to stunt his characters. This new place was beyond what Caillebotte's men were capable of.  It had surpassed their aspirations; there was nothing left to hope for, and their dreams became pointless and therefore unattainable. In Pont de l'Europe, the city and architecture fills up a lot of the space and creates a vast depth.  The city is so much beyond what Caillebotte's figures could imagine accomplishing. A man leans against the largest, darkest architecture Caillbotte included, apparently intimidated into depression or at least sulkiness. You cannot help but imagine him sighing, resigned to the daunting nature of the city. Or maybe the sigh is from longing for something more.  Either way, the artist decided city life was too much for this man to handle with a cheerful attitude.

                Not only are his characters' dreams dashed, but Caillebotte stunted their social aspirations as well. Frequently, the figures in his paintings are in close proximity, appearing as though they should be interacting with each other, but he does not actually give them the desired connections and relationships. For example, in Paris Street: a Rainy Day, there is a man and a woman sharing an umbrella walking toward the viewer as a man is walking toward them.  The couple are not looking at the man approaching them or even willing to face his direction. Not only that, but, despite obviously being connected, the couple is not really interacting with themselves.  The man has his arm out for the woman, so they are definitely together, and they might be looking at the same thing off to the left, and they are sharing an umbrella, but there is still space between them.  They are not talking with each other, and it does not look as though they are out to enjoy the day together.  In fact, the man seems to be ahead of the woman and pointedly looking away from her.  Possibly, Caillebotte imagined this man wanted to use this walk as a chance to distance himself from the woman.  Happy couples out for a stroll tend to walk a lot closer to each other, especially when sharing an umbrella.

                Both of these works use colder colors. Generally, the paintings we looked at use grayer colors or a more monotonous color scheme than those of the Impressionists. Purposefully or not, Caillebotte integrated depression in these compositions, which is not surprising when we realize that his family was dying off as he was painting them. It is quite possible that he and his family perhaps death with their losses by isolating themselves.  Life probably felt lonelier and lonelier as time went on. This was a possible contributor to the loneliness and isolation exposed in his cityscapes.

                Placing his works into historical context and ignoring his personal life, I would assume that Caillebotte was just depicted what he observed in real city life. At the time, Impressionists were interested in painting what their eyes saw instead of the ideas or subjects our brains interpret, and Realists were insisting on showing everyday situations instead of the idealized. It only makes sense that Caillebotte would paint depressed people in the city because he saw depressed people in the city.  Maybe he did, and maybe he did not. I cannot say for sure. But, unlike the Impressionists he was associated with, Caillebotte's works were planned out ahead of time, showing he thought of his compositions as more than an observation.  He valued his subjects and his subject matter. The city impressed him. The people depressed him.

Week Four

If I have my Monet and my Manet straight, Monet's depiction of 1878's 30th of June festival, to me at least, seems as though it wants to give the sense of a big picture while Manet's focuses on a smaller idea. Monet's Rue Montergueil with Flags describes the overall enjoyment of the city.  The view includes ore that a street or a cluster of townsfolk. There's building after building and throngs of celebratory citizens in streets that go on forever. The victory is here and there is nothing more but peace, civility, and rejoicing. Paris is one happy city.

Manet's Rue Mosnier brings attention to one little street with few folk going along down the street. There is quite a bit of depth present. The party seems really far away and the cripple has to hobble his way to get there as people drive past him in carriages. In this version, the victory is still in the distance. In this version, the streets are decorated as much as in Monet's paintings, but the celebration is not happening where you can see it. Manet's street serves to lead the subjects and the viewers to the celebration; it is not the celebration itself. Monet's shows where the party is. All the depth Monet creates in Rue Montergueil is for showing how extensive the celebration is, not how far away it is. While the victory is being celebrated fully for Monet who is ready to accept upcoming peace, Manet portrays the victory as still in the distance.  France is almost there, it is even visible just around the corner, but they still have to hobble along with the crippled veteran for a ways.  They aren't done yet. Manet's view is not nearly as positive as Monet's. Even Manet's streets are not as colorful and saturated - the bricks and coble walking women are really washed out and the colors are cold. Looking at the Monet, we can see more warmth and richness in colors with darks and shadows and higher levels of saturation.

With Monet's depictions, the viewer can more easily understand the images at a distance and as the big picture. He continues on in his previous style, focusing on showing the effects of colors and lights that happen to make an appealing image. You can tell what it is in Manet's painting from a ways away and up close. Your eye can wander from figure to figure and individually interpret what you are seeing with Manet's painting. The composition is not as driven by what he observed with color and lights as by the subject. The viewer does not sit and wonder the how or why of the brushstrokes as much as what is going on with the subjects. The figures are suggesting that there is something wrong. Having a crippled veteran struggling down the street by himself is not suggestive of happiness or reaching wonderful goals. The sidewalk and streets and pedestrians are walking along a line that crosses with the line of the cripples hips.  They are opposing each other. To me, this is Manet heavily suggesting France remembers how they should not be ignoring or fighting the impoverished. Monet's paintings are more interesting and controversial with techniques and style than subject, and even then, a lot of the controversy and newness of his impressionist style has lost some of its edge from being freshly innovative. Monet's Rue Montergueil is clearly not at all interested in making a statement. It is an observation. There are multitudes of people participating, no one is depicted as looking left out or dejected, and it is a victory celebration in full swing. The image would suggest to its contemporary Frenchmen a joyous future, while Manet was sure to create a reminder about what all the recent fighting was about.

Week Three

Currently, I’m sitting in a florescent lit room with plenty of windows so I can appreciate the buzzing of the light bulbs and the general grayness of outside. It is kind of depressing – especially since the last few days were so nice.  And now I have been staring at On the Bank of the Seine, Bennecourt b y Monet, so now I feel like going on a sunny walk, having a picnic, or, at the very least, not doing homework.  Thanks Monet. Kind of ruined my day with your sunny painting. You make me want to relax, take a holiday. Jerk.

The first thing that stops me about this painting to make me want a vacation is the cropping.  That sounds like a stretch, but cropped images make me feel like the image is an experience I am viewing. You do not see everything all at once in reality, and, in real life, things do not align themselves so that they fit within a neat little box or frame or window or whatever. When I see a cropped image, my immediate response is to feel as though I am taking the time to stop, relax, and calmly look out a window. Window equals relaxing. We can see the tree and the buildings and the water and the sky all go to beyond our vision. The painting seems to be a little window that you could just pop through to fully experience the calm little setting.

Secondly, the colors and tones send me off to a summery day. Darn you Monet.  The saturation, temperature and color selection (greens, blues, yellows) give the effect of warm, natural sunlight and pleasant weather. The view is outside on a nice, spring or summer early afternoon. Maybe we are having a picnic. Or a super quaint little tea party. Being outside in nice weather equals relaxing.

To add to this, there is the light. Monet, being interested in recreating the visual effects of light, uses shading and highlights much differently than previous western painters and all them academics. It’s mostly darkness in the foreground, and it is lighter in the distance. Well, the colors are not “lighter” which would sort of give an atmospheric sense of perspective.  Both foreground and background are fairly saturated, so instead of giving an incredible sense of depth, I just feel like we the viewers are placed in the shade, while the stuff beyond our tree is more lit. Shade equals relaxing.

Then there is the solid blue sky. Bright blue sky equals relaxing. And it is not a sweltering, cloudless sky. I think I can see a few wispy clouds hiding behind the trees. Calm floating clouds equals relaxing. Monet also devotes quite a bit of the space in the painting to create a reflection. The water , reflecting the same saturated, warm colors,  doesn’t seem to be disturbed at all. Still waters equals relaxing. Actually, water in general equals relaxing, unless it is cold and raging.

Meanwhile, the angle of our view suggests that we are near-ish to the ground.  We see mostly up and out so we must be down low, sitting or lying down. Not standing equals relaxing (especially when we are in the shade on a sunny day).

And what’s right in the middle of this composition? Leaves. Nature. Nature is relaxing. That is what is important in this painting: a big tree covering up the village or town, and sitting under the tree. The composition does not allow the viewer to be involved with that other stuff. Not important. Neither is homework.

This painting takes the viewer, who if they were in an academic painting mindset would not have been looking for a chance to stop and relax, and forces them to enjoy the little experience the painter had on the bank of the Seine. It makes the viewer’s life seem undesirable. If an academic painter, or historians like ourselves, looked at this painting and then proceeded to not feel like they ought to be out enjoying summery weather instead of analyzing a painting, then they must not have looked at it for very long. Although if you are looking at the painting right now and alternating it with my blogs background, your emotions may get somewhat confused.

Week Two

Looking back to when the bourgeoisie first came into being, I see the Rococo style emerge. The upper classes were looking for light and fluffy pictures focusing on nature and happy, frivolous characters. That is what the bourgeoisie wanted to look at, and that is what they were willing to pay for – flowery fantasies. Courbet’s works used some depressing colors and subject matter. There was no nature or frolicking in it. By purchasing works ignoring reality and the rest of society, the wealthy were clearly expressing their desire to fantasize. Courbet and realism did not fit into that desire at all; it shoved reality into faces and forced the viewers to snap out of those fantasies. Looking back to Romantic works, where any emotion was welcome as long as it was a strong one, we can see Realism is several steps in a different direction.  Realism was not escapist, and it did not evoke visceral reactions. For the bourgeoisie, Realism worked through the pit of their stomachs, up to their mind and conscious, probably slowly building up feelings of guilt and/or disgust. People paying for those paintings didn’t want to see images that made them depressed or guilty. They wanted the flowery fantasies or to feel strong emotions. Courbet’s “Burial at Ornans” does not promote happy feelings, and neither does the manual labor in “The Stonebreakers.”

With socialism making its arguments and gaining popularity with writers, those with voice in mid-nineteenth century France wanted everyone to identify with the poor and the working class. The wanted the future to be run by them, not the wealthy. Any image that focused on the working or poor felt like a threat to the bourgeoisie.  A large image of manual laborers such as stonebreakers was like putting up a giant sign on a rich person’s home saying in big, bold letters, “You’re not important even thou you’re the one that pays us.  These other guys are.” That would seem fairly insulting to the rich and sheltered who were used to exquisite pandering.  If a person wanted to look at poor people, doing poor people things, then they would just watch poor people.  But by producing images that exhibited other lifestyles, artists could be seen as forcing viewers to acknowledge what they have clearly been trying to ignore.  I hate it when I am ignoring something and someone tries to push it in my face. I would be offended if I were a wealthy viewer back then.

Or, if you ignore the focus on the lower class, ignore the subject matter and potential messages, the composition would still be confusing and off-putting at the time. Nowadays, we are ready to look at any image and accept that it is art and meaningful and on purpose if that is what we’re told to believe.  Back then, they had more definitive standards, and Courbet was breaking them. The size and position of those stone-breakers do not make sense according to previous standards.  They were not holding some secret message slyly hidden and delivered in an established style.  The stonebreakers are a complete departure from previous compositions.  You stare at working men’s backsides, and, beyond that, the view is cut off by a cliff or stone wall.  There is no interest in depth or a far off haziness.  The viewer is kept within the confines of what a stone worker with blinders on would see.  You are forced to pay attention to the right-now of the workers.  There is no pretty landscape in the distance, only the labor of today.  The upper crust in denial would not like that view.

The burial, though it has the depth and extended view, is filled with faces lacking a unified mood, and does not provide a satisfactory main subject for the eye to focus on.  There is the white mass on the left broken by children’s faces that look as disinterested and confused as the viewer might feel when happening upon an image of a commonplace funeral in a fancy salon.  Then there are the red cloaked clergymen, who have the only saturated color in the painting, against the black and white contrasts of the man in front of them.  He kneels, as if to say, “Oh, look! A hole! There’s a hole right here. Look everyone, I have found a hole!”  If your attention is not caught by any of those characters, then you may be staring at the hole itself. Oh, look.  A hole.  And if the none of those options do not captivate you, then you are probably staring at the dog, who also is confused or disinterested.  Generally, if the bourgeoisie were out and about, looking at paintings, trying to have a good time in the Salon, they most likely wanted the composition to tell them where to look.  They would want their eyes guided to something interesting and pleasant.  The figures Courbet depicted obviously don’t care what the viewer decides to look at.  The viewer is not at all significant.

Week One

To be honest, my current understanding of what avant-garde means is almost entirely based off of what can be learned from Calvin and Hobbes. This particular strip gave me what I considered to be a definition of avant-garde: art that isn’t liked by the public and is secretly (or not so secretly) criticizing those who don’t “appreciate” it. 

I knew there had to be more to this “avant-garde” stuff, and if you read Calvin and Hobbes then you know that plenty of strips involving snowmen provide a generic idea of avant-gardism.  Basically, what Calvin and his snowart taught me was that avant-garde states a point of view (though it may not be particularly straight forward), demands reactions from people, and tries to bring about change by challenging standards and even insulting those who value tradition instead of originality. It sees itself as above all else because it is saying something. 

I also had this idea of the avant-garde artist being one with a rebellious, annoying teenager complex where they are always questioning and never accepting – and usually complaining. They also would have to be exceptionally well-educated, because you cannot properly complain or comment on society or culture if you do not know everything about it. This first grader and his stuffed tiger seemed to know a lot about how our culture works, but that is what made it successful, I think.

I think the main thing that is “challenging” about Manet’s “Le Dejuner sur l’Herbe” is the first impression it gives is that of a narrative or a snapshot of a recognizable scene.  There are people, which give the sense of a narrative, and it even has titles that make the image sound relatable to an average person. You assume it will make sense and you will be able to put things together and line them up in an orderly way inside your mind. But then you cannot. There is not a satisfactory train of thought for the viewer to recognize and follow.  The subject matter is too difficult to relate to after all – and therefore incomprehensible. The technicalities and style also does not relate well to our three-dimensional minds and irritates the part of our brains that wants to read a painting as an attempt at reality. Manet’s painting does not allow us to pretend the two-dimensional image is three-dimensional. Viewing this painting, especially amidst its contemporaries, is like a friend convincing you they have the most hilarious joke in the world and then tell you a joke without a punch line. Your initial reaction is to want to slap them.  But it is almost guaranteed that after you hear that joke so many times, you will think it is hilarious too.  It might take a while, but eventually it is understandable that the lack of punch line is the punch line. You expect one thing and get another, which is very frustrating on the receiver’s end, but the deliverer will get a kick out of it.  That is what avant-garde is: a product meant to persuade you through confusion to make the artist feel good.

Week Eight

Michelangelo’s “David” demonstrates Italy’s High Renaissance interests in Humanism and Idealism.  The subject is depicted at the “perfect” age and is given a smooth and flawless healthy body from a clean, pure white marble.  Artists of the time were seeking to make the visual arts a more intellectual craft.  Michelangelo develops an expressive face to show a value in contemplation and intellectualism, which is a switch from the previous depictions of victory where young lads stood tall and proud over a grotesque, decapitated head. Collected and deep in thought, this “David” expressed the Italian’s idea of an admirable, academic Renaissance Man: healthy, attractive, and a clearly physically active intellectual.

Bernini’s “David,” while still utilizing the ideal male form, embodies the shift away from intellectualism to using drama and emotion.  Bernini took the expressive face Michelangelo introduced over a century earlier and added action and motion.  Instead of appreciating an individual and their beauty, the movement of Bernini’s “David” provides a narrative.  This is not David simply existing as David, it is a recognizable biblical character standing next to the armor and weaponry he turned down, concentrating on defeating a giant with his humble shepherding slingshot. Previous “Davids” displayed character or triumph, but this sculpture identifies the story. This works to make David a more believable and relatable personality for viewers to identify with.

Bernini, taking the contrapposto stance further to a more extreme “S,” activates all of his figures muscles, making the noticeable musculature more natural looking.  The clean, fresh-out-of-the-baths whiteness of Michelangelo’s sculpture is exchanged for a grittier, fleckier, yet glossier one. The dirty but shiny arms and legs feign an oily, sweaty man instead of Michelangelo’s powdered man posing with his sling. The heavenly perfection the High Renaissance idealized is not such a priority to Bernini as was effectively describing the scene.

All of these formal elements lead to the Baroque’s favored dynamism. Where the Renaissance produced calm, collected and simple beauty, the Baroque brought action and emotion. Michelangelo sculpted in a culture where the simple, unadorned beauty of a human body was valued.  The differences between his and Bernini’s Davids exhibit the change in the Catholic Church’s and other patrons’ priorities from allowing the appreciation of humanity to understanding and emotionally experiencing the Bible. The addition of details and action in Bernini’s “David” shows us that.

A more blunt expression of the shifting values would be the “subtle” covering of inappropriate body parts. Where Michelangelo would proudly display anatomy (and possibly exaggerate some “idealized” musculature), Bernini included a conveniently located cloth fluttering by, diluting the viewers need to appreciate David’s manliness to the fullest extent, an addition Michelangelo would not have desired on any of his works. Bernini’s work effectively reveals how art moved away from the explicit Humanism from Michelangelo’s time to the more exciting and action-oriented Baroque style.

Week Six

In Southern Europe, many artists expressed an extreme discomfort in the religious situation following the start of the Reformation. Up in the North, art was affected a little differently. Subject matter, interests, and styles expanded beyond religious conflicts for a lot of Northern Renaissance art.

Artists and patrons seemed to want to ignore or avoid the tension created by religious disagreement and political disarray, unlike in Italy as we can see in Mannerists’ artwork. While the Roman Catholics faced trying to fix their system, a lot of Europe decided to move away from the Catholic Church. This resulted in new denominations across Europe. With people realizing they did not have to act according to the pope, there was room made for new priorities in interests such as science, philosophies, landscapes, and normal people or everyday living. Artists and others traveled and achieved higher education than what used to be available to them. There was a new motivation to improve one’s self for the sake of being better instead of the traditional assumption that one needed to be focused on become more like Christ or to avoid hell. Eternal damnation used to be a bigger factor and was a major tool for Catholics’ conversion – one example being Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights,” an earlier Northern European work, and another being Michelangelo’s “Last Judgment” in the Sistine Chapel.  There were “moralizing” artworks or images, demonstrated by many of Bruegal the Elder’s works, promoting good traits in this audience without referencing religion or the bible. This appealed to the widening population of art customers of the time. They did not want reminders of the anxieties and pressures from Christianity, especially those of the corrupt Catholic hierarchy of the time.

Another idea that benefited from the Reformation was using landscape as a more dominating element of visual composition. Works exclusively describing landscape became more popular, like the works of Albrecht Altdorfer – the Northern Renaissance Bob Ross. Landscape portraits allowed the viewer to appreciate a beautiful image with the option to attribute wonderful scenery to God or not. Religious connotation could be given or ignored, depending on the individual, which is exactly what Northern Europeans wanted. They wanted the choice to interpret and enjoy art because of their personal beliefs and interests.

Yet another area of interest that gained popularity was representations of “normal life.” Before the Reformation in the North, less wealthy patrons were already trying to commission portraits of themselves, but as the 16^th century went on, audiences and artists became interesting in having art illustration everyday and relatable activities and people. Quaint or recognizable scenes that focused on people not being pious or mythological were more desirable to look at than the figures of stiff portraits where a person’s likeness could be seen without any action or behavior.  “The Banker and His Wife” by Marinus van Reymerswaele I think is a good example of this. One could actually find this scene in town, unlike the what is depicted in something like Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” or Campin’s Triptych of the Annunciation.

A good example of all these themes is Bruegal the Elder’s “The Fall of Icarus.” It has nothing to do with the political/religious offenses of the time, first of all. Second, it references the moralizing tale of Icarus. The piece can suggest that one should not get too excited by bad ideas. The painting also includes a reference to a Flemish proverb which would appeal to the intended audience and help emphasize the insignificance of the out-of-the-ordinary. There is a focus on landscape, as well as a focus on normal people and their everyday life. There are two deaths depicted in the painting, but they are almost unobservable because the artist made the working people the dominating subjects. This piece presents the many interests that flourished at the time and would easily satisfy the growing audience in Northern Europe.

I chose to compare Pontormo’s “Entombment” and Parmigianino’s “Madonna with the Long Neck.” They both depict well known religious subject matter, but, instead of a sense of piousness or godliness, each work describes a disturbance to me.

The entombment has grieving figures taking Christ’s body to the grave. No one is really looking at anything in particular; they all are spacing out in their own directions. The (living) bodies are leaning this way and that way as if they’re marionettes in the hands of an inept puppeteer – as if gravity is pulling harder on their torsos than their legs and feet which seem to be pushing away from and barely touching the ground.  It is unquestionably despairing, like everyone just wants to fall over and give up, but they can’t. Christ got to die and go limp, but everyone else has to suffer and live and stand up. Life is so unfair.

As for the “Madonna with the Long Neck,” I don’t really know what to make of it. The easy answer is that it is the Madonna and Child, but I really don’t want to accept that as a reliable and solid interpretation. A good Madonna would not be so happy and pleased to have such a lifeless looking child falling out of her lap.  The child has the limpness of the Christ form Pontormo’s “Entombment” so I want to associate this image with Christ’s death, but the surrounding figures of these works have opposite reactions. Pontormo’s people are freaking out, falling over themselves thinking it’s the end of the world while Parmigianino’s are touched by this limp thing’s beauty or whatever. It’s just weird.

Formally, Parmigianino’s piece is going to extremes to showcase the Mannerist proportions of humans.  Limbs and digits are excessively lengthy. The toes look a little like they could belong to gorillas. This work also utilizes awkward, unstable positions that a normal human being would not be particularly comfortable staying in. The child is sliding off the lap, the Madonna should be slipping off of her throne, and the admiring figures to her right, I think, are contorting their bodies at least some to be seen in a “graceful” pose. The columns in the back add a strange perspective that doesn’t fit with the small figure in the right-hand corner. They also don’t make sense left as they are with no functional purpose. All this sums up to another Mannerism trait: it disturbs me. The tenderness and pride the figures show toward the dead looking child is unsettling. It reflects how people at the time, and possibly the artist, are not sure what to make of their own religion anymore.  The Catholic faith, which had been a constant for centuries, was revealed to be corrupt and alarmingly twisted from its original state. They wanted to retain their faith and religious images, but the church was changing and did not provide any stability, just like the visual compositions of the time. Also, I personally think this Madonna’s eyes look like they are popping out too far, adding an extra bit of creepiness to the painting.

Pontormo’s work has some equally troubling qualities, aside from everyone being jealous of Christ’s limpness. The weird little man from the corner of Parmigianino’s Madonna and Child painting has an equivalent in the one random cloud in Pontormo’s “Entombment.” It’s just there being completely unrelated to everything else. The weird perspective I found in the Parmigianino’s columns I equate to the Entombments weird, crouching person in the front. His back looks like it’s reflecting something pink, and his stomach looks like it’s reflecting something blue. Meanwhile, there’re blue clothes behind him and pink and orange clothes on his other side. These things work against each other, or rather they work together to confuse my mental understanding of what I’m seeing. Both of these works display upsetness with the basic, run-of-the-mill religious images the artists and audiences were taught to believe in. Frankly, the results hurt my brain.