HEAVENLY ART
Vancouver Art Gallery hosts some of Italy’s greatest visual wonders with its new exhibit, Of Heaven and Earth.
Of Heaven and Earth: 500 Years of Italian Painting Until Oct. 4 | Vancouver Art Gallery Info: vancouverartgallery.org
Plump putti with tiny wings, mythological characters that float in the air in apparent disregard for the laws of physics, and avenging angels with swords are among the cast of characters in a new exhibition at the Vancouver Art Gallery.
They feature in 40 paintings by Italian artists that span 500 years. They’re the kind of European historical works rarely seen in Vancouver, and include paintings by well-known artists such as Sandro Botticelli, Giovanni Bellini, and Titian (Tiziano Vecellio).
The collection comes from Glasgow Museums in Scotland. The civic institution has a significant collection of historic Italian art because of the generosity of Archibald McLellan, a wealthy businessman and bachelor in the early 19th century.
But as VAG’s Ian Thom said at the media preview, McLellan’s gift of 510 pictures — many of which were Italian — came with a big string attached: Glasgow had to accept responsibility for his debts too. The city agreed and McLellan’s donation became the core of the museum’s collection.
The exhibition shows the importance of “public spiritness” and philanthropy in creating great museums said Thom, the coordinating curator.
The touring exhibition is organized by Glasgow Museums and the American Federation of Arts.
Of Heaven and Earth recalls an era when painting was the predominant medium of visual art in the western world. The exhibition doesn’t focus on a single artist or period of art history in Italy. Instead, it represents, as McLellan said, the “various schools of painting in Italy ... since the revival of art in the 15th century.”
Works in the exhibition are arranged chronologically from 1370-1375 to 1886.
Many of the paintings are narrative works based on Christian stories and incidents from Classical history. All the paintings are full of realistically-portrayed objects and figures. While the stories they depict are not widely known or have the same kind of meaning to viewers that they once did, many of the paintings depict narrative scenes that can be read in contemporary ways. In this case, the didactic panels provide useful background information to make sense of many of the works.
Virgin and Child by Bellini shows Christ’s mother averting her eyes from the viewer as she looks down at her immaculately conceived child. She’s sad but it’s difficult to tell whether she’s lamenting having missed out on the traditional pleasures of conceiving or whether she knows her son is going to end up crucified. The child stands on two feet on some kind of ledge and gestures with his right hand in what’s supposed to be a blessing on the viewers. It must have been a convention of the time but his adult-like composure makes him look unsettling and like no baby I’ve ever seen.
The painting has an example of really bad technique. On Mary’s right hand, the pinky finger sticks out awkwardly, like it was painted by a novice.
One of the most striking works is Salome by Carlo Dolci. Salome is identified as the Biblical figure who dances for King Herod and demands he fulfil his promise of providing the head of John the Baptist. It has one of many examples of anachronism in the exhibition: Salome wears a billowy dress of a lady from the 17th century rather than clothing from the era of Christ. She turns her head away and averts her eyes from the platter she’s carrying with John’s severed head, but it’s not like she appears particularly distraught. She looks more as if she’s trying to appear unconcerned at having to lower herself and act as if she were a servant. Overall, the impression it creates is a chilling one because of her cavalier attitude toward such a bloody act.
The Purification of Aeneas in the River Numicius has the fattest and jolliest putti in the exhibition. Pier Leone Ghezzi’s painting from the 18th century tells a story from Ovid’s Metamorphosis of Venus making her son Aeneas immortal. In the painting, Venus rides in a gold chariot supported by a dark grey cloud in apparent contradiction to the laws of nature. Beside her, several more happy putti frolic in the air with impossibly small wings that would have to beat faster than a hummingbird’s to keep them aloft. On the ground, another pair play together; one of them wears Aeneas’ helmet which is much too big for him. Muscular Aeneas is naked but has his naughty bits hidden by an artfully crossed and raised leg and lots of white cloth. Everyone looks like they’re enjoying themselves immensely.