Skip to main content

Delacroix, 'Odalisque', c.1825

 Odalisque by Eugene Delacroix

My eye is drawn to the dirty folds of drapery across her hips – they are supposed to cover her yet simply accentuate her nudity. The loose strokes and curving lines look agitated, at odds with the mood of the scene. It almost looks like a hand and arm attempting to grab her. The picture is titled ‘Odalisque’ suggesting a depiction of a harem, an image of languid, Eastern sensuality, a very popular subject throughout the nineteenth century. To a certain extent Delacroix conforms: the setting is dark and enclosed, and the woman seems drowsy, her body relaxed into sensual curves. The pale, soft flesh dominates the canvas, her torso shaped by the dark shadows beneath. There are just enough foreground details to establish that this is an Eastern scene and so the woman is not Venus, or a Parisian contemporary.

But my first impression of the drapery lingers and makes me uneasy. The woman’s position starts to look awkward. Her hip and pelvis are almost thrust upward, making them the highest point of the painting, whilst her neck and head are slumped lower, perhaps in a deliberate effort to get her facing the viewer. The awkwardness is not the relaxation of sleep but the unnatural limpness of unconsciousness or death. There is something about her gaze that is unseeing. She appears to be looking out at the (presumably male) viewer but Delacroix has painted her eyes as black holes, like a void in the canvas almost as if she is in a death-like swoon. Her slightly parted lips could be read as sensuality, but equally, she seems to have a complete lack of control or agency.

The whole painting is dishevelled - the loose brushwork of the drapery and the imprecise outline of the figure – both suggesting what has gone on before. The dominate colours – grubby red and white reference flesh and blood. And there is a vague threat in the dark background with the silhouetted shapes visible through the doorway. There is nothing decorative about this, none of the patterns or richness that you might expect in an odalisque painting, and no warmth. It’s all about darkness, imprisonment, seediness.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ernst Barlach, 'The Avenger', 1914

  On the advent of both the First World War and the artistic movement known as Futurism, Ersnt Barlach cast this work in bronze. The eye picks out an angular, horizontal form, a sense of hurried pace and strong facial features to this work by the German Expressionist artist. This piece is highly interesting when discussed in terms of the artist's oeuvre - Barlach entered the First World War with a clear attitude of patriotism. The sculpture reflects that, as the figure seemingly thrusts forward wielding a sizeable weapon above his head, leading the charge head on. Describing the sculpture as his 'raging Barbarian' it is clear that Barlach wanted to present an emotionally charged figure. Perhaps it is even a self portrait, with Barlach picturing himself as the hero. The artist did in fact serve briefly as an infantry officer. However realisation soon dawned and patriotism quickly dwindled. All of Barlach's sculptures from this point onward are influenced by the horror an...
Post a Comment
Read more

John Everett Millais, 'Peace Concluded', 1856

  My eye is drawn to the copy of The Times clutched in the hands of the officer. The white of the figurine on the man's knee and the white of his wife's sleeves all serve to make the white paper stand out even more on the canvas. As the title of the painting suggests, this is about the end of the Crimean War, seemingly depicting a soldier who has just returned home, surrounded by his family, but the mood is perhaps less euphoric than you might expect. The soldier seems somber and weary, and his wife has a look of concern. Although on the surface it seems to be quite a harmonious composition representing a close knit and traditional family, the positioning of the man is odd. It is his wife who takes her place at the apex of the triangular composition, the soldier is reduced to an emasculated role, perhaps an invalid, as suggested by the blanket over his legs. Her face is passive, but not exactly positive. With her arms draped around her husband, she looks posed, dutiful but not...
Post a Comment
Read more

Tondino di Guerrino, 'Crucifix', 1325-30

  The monumental crucifixes of Cimabue, Giotto and their followers, and their transition from Byzantine forms towards increased dynamism and naturalism, have been well studied. Equally, smaller works by French Gothic practitioners in ivory are now beginning to permeate scholarship, mainly through the detailed exploration by Sarah Guerin. The goldsmiths of Siena do not command as much attention. Yet, they hold the key to artistic synthesis in the early fourteenth century. This is proved by the small processional crucifix currently at the National Gallery's iteration of Siena: The Rise of Painting 1300-50, attributed to Tondino di Guerrino.  Tondino combines enamel with an intricate gold sculptural presentation of the crucified Christ in this small, portable work. Instantly, the eye is drawn to the central element - the thin, skeletal body hanging from two stretched, emaciated arms. Christ's torso is drawn inwards, his ribs exposed, mimicking a sharp intake of breath. The downwa...
Post a Comment
Read more