"Orazio Lomi Gentileschi (1563–1639) was an Italian painter. Born in Tuscany, he began his career in Rome, painting in a Mannerist style, much of his work consisting of painting the figures within the decorative schemes of other artists. After 1600, he came under the influence of the more naturalistic style of Caravaggio. He received important commissions in Fabriano and Genoa before moving to Paris to the court of Marie de Medici. He spent the last part of his life at the court of Charles I of England. He was the father of the painter Artemisia Gentileschi."- Introduction to the Wiki entry for Orazio Gentileschi, generally referred to as a Mannerist.
"Michelangelo once gave this advice to his pupil Marco da Siena, that one should always make the figure pyramidal, serpentine, and multiplied by one, two or three. And in this precept, it seems to me, is contained the secret of painting, for a figure has its highest grace and eloquence when it is seen in movement—what the painters call the Furia della figura. And to represent it thus there is no better form than that of a flame, because it is the most mobile of all forms and is conical. If a figure has this form it will be very beautiful...The painter should combine this pyramidal form with the Serpentinata, like the twisting of a live snake in motion, which is also the form of a waving flame... The figure should resemble the letter S... And this applies not only to the whole figure, but also to its parts...The figure will not appear graceful unless it has this serpentine form, as Michelangelo called it."- Via this link (posted previously) regarding the Mannerist's S-curve or Figura serpentinata. The engraving inset right is the given example of this figure found at the beginning of the Wiki entry. The golden embellishment is my own. I first mentioned the Serpentinata in a footnote in Part III of the Bentvueghel series. I was confused about it then and am confused about it now. Was it or did it become a code word for the golden spiral?
(Note: I think the figura serpentinata directly above has another spiral going in the opposite direction. Sadly, I am not able to test this; my main computer is currently sitting in the trunk of my car which is currently sitting in the place it was towed yesterday morning after the accident. Physically I'm okay but the car isn't and this is seriously bad, as you might imagine. I will persevere with this post but it may take me longer than usual. Shit happens. Sorry, but I'm in need of a miracle.)
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(Update 10/3/22: In my first note - above - I had just had a freak car accident - while blinded by the sun, I hit an aluminum streetlight in the center of the highway - and totaled my "mobile home."
But, that wasn't the end of the nightmare.
While at the towing facility - a facility I was assured was safe - someone broke into the trunk of my car and stole my relic of an Imac In other words, they stole all my original graphic files from the past 10 years or so... up to and including those of the present day, that is, my pentagonal spiral work.
As you might imagine, there have been many reasons that blogging has become next to impossible. Nonetheless, I have written a little of the text for this post. See below.)
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It probably goes without saying that this blogger (moi) seemingly became addicted to the pentagonal golden spiral in some strange way over the past 6 months. Well, it would have to be strange, wouldn't it? As a geometrical figure, the golden spiral is merely the combination of a series of triangles and a series of circles in a specific proportion to one another, aligned in a specific way; what's to get addicted to? A mathematical proportion? Can one get really get addicted to a mathematical proportion?
Apparently.
I find I keep coming back to the blog to reassess the spirals I detected in the numerous examples of Renaissance and Baroque paintings I posted- well, that's my excuse anyway - but, using a different set of brain cells, I realized I possessed an ulterior motive. The addict's motive: pleasure... although (presumably) on a non-physical, abstract level.
So, we're back to the word "strange." How strange? Strange enough to compel this addict to draw spirals through 69 paintings while said addict's actual, physical life was on the fast track to Hell. (See introductory paragraphs).
But - despite present, perpetual, real-time preoccupations - I still have to wonder about the 33 European artists in whose paintings the spiral was found. It seems they lived during a period of (roughly) 200 years - predominantly during the Baroque period which, in turn, lay on the cusp of the Age Enlightenment (1680–1820)... that is, when scientific inquiry was in its infancy in the western world.
Now, this specific period in history might be a factor in our inquiry... then again it may not; it depends upon how we classify these artists and their spiral paintings. It shouldn't be difficult; there are actually only 2 ways to go in this analysis: the artists in question either deliberately designed some paintings with the spiral in mind or they didn't.
Keep in mind that the spiral was also present in Baroque ornamentation (inset left) and possibly somewhere in Baroque music, too. So, were the artists, artisans, and musicians completely aware of its proportions and using it as a measure of perfection and beauty? Or, was the proliferation of golden spirals (at that time) an almost paranormal thing... a variety of subliminal meme... an unconsciously recognized icon which was possibly a presentiment on the part of an artistic community who were, without noticing it, heralding an evolutionary phase of a whole society?
And, this brings us to the Gentileschi spirals. Specifically, Orazio's, although we'll look at Artemisia's, too. But, Orazio's Young Woman Playing a Violin is similar - and as spectacular - as Judith Leyster's Jolly Toper especially because the spiral is so in-your-face; you can't possibly miss it. More to the point (literally) is that although the spiral I located is somewhat smaller than it could be, where it and the triangle falls on the bow is simply too remarkable to be, shall we say, a natural occurrence and this convinces me that Orazio, like Judith, must have been consciously aware of what he was doing. The spiral is too tight to be a happy accident. Moreover, Orazio has given us another example (below the jump) but, as I have no graphics program on this laptop, you're going to have to work this spiral out for yourself...
It almost goes without saying that one can never be sure of exactly where the original spiral was located in the painting, but once you've seen enough of them, it becomes possible to have a pretty good idea. But, it's only a rough idea... it doesn't fly unless you've ruled out the other possibilities using an actual spiral... and, as we've seen, not even this constitutes irrefutable proof!
The key and first thing to locate when spiral-hunting is generally the triangle. It can lie in any direction! In the case of Cecilia... above, I would say it was in a standard, upright position with the apex terminating somewhere in the vicinity of the angel's groin and wrist. The base-line might lie at the bottom of the painting... or lower. Once again, the image is strangely cropped.
But there's one important element that gives Orazio's game away and that's the position of the man's hand lying outside the doorway and (seemingly) almost touching the angel's foot. Note the curve created by the angel's torso and extended leg in relation to the doorway man's hand and arm. Without a test, I would still surmise that somewhere there is a golden spiral.
How the spiral continues from there is your call. My guess is that a larger spiral was compromised, but there appears to be a smaller one as well. Without testing it, either spiral's inner termination is next-to-impossible to determine, but I'm guessing that it lies somewhere in the dark, circular area lying between Cecilia and the out-stretched hand of the seated man facing her.
Pretty much a dead giveaway for a golden spiral is an unusual design arrangement and figural position of the main subject which seems to almost depend upon some some mystery element for clarity. We saw this in works by Giampetrino and Caravaggio and even in Botticelli's offering (also, see below). In each case, locating the spiral was a revelation, as in: Ah, so that's how and why this odd design works!
(Note: And let's not forget those odd, John the Baptist paintings by Valentin de Boulogne, Nicolas Régnier, and Caravaggio found in this post.)
The Gentileschis did not use the golden spiral exclusively, however, nor were they hooked by it as was Caravaggio. Both Orazio and his daughter, Artemisia, sampled various design formulas. Inset right is Orazio's Diana the Huntress which looks like it might fulfill that S-curve we've heard so much about: the figura serpentinata. What do you think?
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Artemisia Gentileschi
- Quote taken from the 1911 edition of the Encyclopaedia Brittancia found here. Emphasis mine. "Unwomanly in its physical horror" or masterful in its depiction of brute force? Those early 20th century cats could never get it quite straight... but, I bet Artemisia could've told them a thing or two!
"Further paintings and engravings by Matthys Pool depict the elaborate, wine-sodden initiation rites of the Bent, which ended in a solemn procession at dawn to the “Tomb of Bacchus,” an ancient porphyry sarcophagus in Santa Costanza, where further imbibing and libations took place, along with the carving of the name of the new member on the walls of the church (some of these names being still legible today).
These works are accompanied by lively sketches of contemporary Bent artists, attributed to Leonaert Bramer and another — anonymous — Dutchman. Their subjects included Claude Lorrain, capacious wine glass in hand, and the Italian Caravaggesque painter Artemisia Gentileschi, dressed as a male and sporting a false mustache."
"Artemisia's career as an artist was very successful in Florence. She was the first woman accepted into the Accademia delle Arti del Disegno (Academy of the Arts of Drawing). She maintained good relations with the most respected artists of her time, such as Cristofano Allori, and was able to garner the favour and the protection of influential people, beginning with Cosimo II de' Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany and especially, of the Grand Duchess, Christina of Lorraine. Her acquaintance with Galileo Galilei, evident from a letter she wrote to the scientist in 1635, appears to stem from her Florentine years; indeed it may have stimulated her depiction of the compass in the Allegory of Inclination."
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Artemisia Gentelischi was an astonishing woman for her time... for any time... and the proof lies in the painting above. In it she says (in her obliquely feminine, wicked way): "don't mess with me, Sam."
And we believe her.
You might say Artemisia was (playfully) butch when butch girls were practically unheard of (or so the lords of history would have you believe). Then again, how many women of her time, do you suppose, posed for a portrait wearing men's clothing while sporting a moustache? Beyond that she was her father's daughter... a kind of boy-girl... a type of son her father never had - although he had several sons - but needed. As it was, due to the early death of her mother, Artemisia was raised by he father, and, later, he championed her artistic career.
Judith and Holofernes is, perhaps, her greatest masterpiece and unquestionably the most powerful interpretation of what was then a fairly popular subject. Artemisia, herself, painted a number of variations of the same theme. I think the general opinion is that Artemisia was channeling her rage towards her real-life rapist, Agostino Tassi, an Italian painter, who, although convicted, never served his sentence. While this may, in part, be true, on a more transpersonal level, it represented the complete overcoming of oppression... and the victory of the oppressed.
As for the designated spirals, my impulse was to first align the triangle with the overall movement of the design: the sword-thrust, which lies almost dead-center. Ideally, the triangle would be in the inverted position... the feminine, and in this case, the dominant position. But, as we see in the second spiral (inset right) above, important elements of the design are more fully intercepted by an upright triangle, including the bracelet on Judith's arm, which, according one article, has a cameo of the goddess Athena, goddess of "wisdom, warfare and handicraft."
That being said, the horizontal spiral used by Caravaggio in his take on the same theme (see Addendum below) might also work and in a similar way, but, well, one can't argue with the triangles in this design and I didn't.
As for Artemisia's Maria Maddalena come la Malinconia (Mary Magdalene as the Melancholy) inset left, my guess is that one might construe an inverted triangle and spiral around the Magdalene figure... but this would not take into account the dull brown drapery hanging over her head, and the drapery contributes quite heavily to the painting's atmosphere and theme. But, for Artemisia, the Magdalene's dilemma was not "penitence" as in other interpretations of this variety of Magdalene, but melancholy... in the form of depression's dark cloud lying threateningly over her head. More importantly, we have, once again, the idea of oppression. Oppression = Depression: Artemisia's Athenian wisdom.
Was Artemisia an early feminist? I think the general consensus of opinion is an overwhelming yes. Was she gay or bisexual? Possibly, but not necessarily. On the other hand, there is that portrait drawn by Bentvueghel artist, Leonaert Bramer... and my impression is that a number of "Bents" were (in the English slang sense)
bent... especially the Caravaggisti, who may have followed their master in more ways than one. Then again, perhaps Artemisia wanted to be "just one of the boys"... and Bentvueghel Bramer made her an honorary member!
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Addendum
The Gentileschis, both father and daughter, were follower's of Caravaggio, although both went their own way at a later date. But, I think I've effectively shown that many of the Caravaggisti employed both his use of extreme shadow and a prominent spiral design. Now, while this may have been an unconscious, subliminal phenomenon, I'm willing to bet it wasn't, in which case, we have another dilemma to grapple with. That is, did the spiral have more significance than merely a useful design element?
When Pacioli wrote in his
Divina Proportione "... just like God cannot be properly defined, nor can be understood through words, likewise this proportion of ours cannot ever be designated through intelligible numbers, nor can it be expressed through any rational quantity, but always remains occult and secret, and is called irrational by the mathematicians" he seemed to equate the golden ratio with a variety of magical formula. That is, through the recognition and understanding of "this proportion of ours" he was performing a marriage between science, art and mysticism. And this wasn't unusual for the early Western scientists, many who dabbled in astrology, numerology and alchemy side by side with astronomy, mathematics and botany... and the arts. The scientific field was wide open - the hard lines were still blurred. Da Vinci painted portraits and designed flying machines. Caravaggio, son of stone-mason, embedded the pentagonal golden ratio throughout his oeuvre. Artemisia Gentileschi, the artist, corresponded with Galileo, the astronomer, in 1635. Artists, such as Otto van Schrieck and
Maria Sibylla Merian, doubled as early naturalists.
But, I imagine, that regardless of ones specific inquiry, each was driven by an almost pathological need for new knowledge, uncharted territories, and untarnished intrigues. They were straining for Logos... a logic which suffered during the Dark Ages and continued to be eclipsed by religious persecution, disease, poverty, and war. Religious belief, although not abandoned, could no longer fulfill the need for true knowledge, could no longer compensate for the horrors witnessed throughout the Middle Ages. The "new scientists" were seeking enlightenment, autonomy, discovery, truth. And, it was into this slowly reawakening world that the pentagonal spiral made its appearance... and not necessarily for the first time. Similar to the sign of the pentagram - by which the followers of Pythagoras "knew each other" - perhaps, the "sign" of the pentagonal spiral enabled the Baroque artists to identify like-minded artists... kindred spirits in a world in which freedom did not, yet, ring.
Then again, the spiral, as a measure of perfection and beauty might be a desirable configuration for any artist to explore, and, considering the many spirals that just happened to be found in the more popular works of the artists who may have utilized them... well, maybe there was something "divine" to the figure, after all...
...or, divinely psychological! ;-)
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A fascinating glimpse into this art and artists -- their search for logic and structure in a dark time. So well written and researched! Thank you so much for sharing this and kudos to you!!
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome, Bob, and your support, as always, is much appreciated.
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