Skip to main content

Titian, 'Man with a Glove', c.1520

 

In many ways this portrait seems conventional to the eye. The flattening, dark background, the three quarter length view, the wandering gaze of the sitter - all are common tropes in sixteenth century portraiture. Equally, the dress of the sitter is of the time, showing off his patrician status, his jewels but also his refined nature as his black jacket melts into the background. However, the mastery of Titian means that this piece quickly deviates from convention. Titian had already pioneered the use of the parapet in portraiture; Man with a Quilted Sleeve in London's National Gallery painted ten years prior to the piece above, is the prime example of a figure encroaching in on our space and twisting elegantly towards us. Here the unknown sitter leans on a similar device, allowing the painting to extend into our space so it is not such a flat design. The artist has used this device to also place his signature on the piece, and thus stamp his artistic authority. 

The origins of the sitter and the display of this piece are not known. It could originate from the Gonzaga collection in Mantua, but this has been disputed. It's size is moderate (100x89cm) and its display in a palace environment may be expected. Equally it could have been displayed in the Venetian portego a long, hall-like room where guests were entertained, made especially for the display of paintings along its walls. This display could account for the wandering gaze of the figure - perhaps he interacts with others on the walls. And his pointing finger could also be gesturing to another part of the room. 

With no display information, however, we can only assume that the finger either points to show off the ring and therefore his material richness, or points to the gloves, which form the centerpiece of this composition, foregrounded in the title. Titian has delicately rendered the ungloved hand - we see him entering his mature style here into the 1520s, as his genius emerges. These are not the hands of a man who has laboured all this life, but are elegant, graceful, perhaps even fragile. Peter Stallybrass and Ann Rosalind Jones write extensively on fetishising the glove, describing the paradox created by removing the glove: attention is given to the hands while making them useless, or rather only useful for putting on and removing the glove. In the sitter's other hand are both gloves, slashed across the back as a sign of fashionable nonchalance. However the leather does look rather ragged, and the removed glove is lifeless and drooping, whilst the fingers barely reach the ends of the leather. Though the sitter's face remains a picture of perfection, the gloves seem aged and ravaged by violence. The sitter's face seems a little unsure of himself, as if he is trying to retreat into the darkness of the background. He is not so world weary as the glove he has removed from his hands. There is almost a ghostly grey pallor to the glove that no longer holds a hand, empty of flesh and blood, discarded and no longer of use. The complexities of iconography in Titian's piece therefore lie in the materialism identified in the title; the glove itself. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cellini, 'Perseus with the Head of Medusa', 1545-1554

  My eye is immediately drawn to the head of Medusa. At first glance it looks gruesome, as though Cellini has captured the moment just after the head has been decapitated, and it oozes blood and bodily matter. However the viewer then notices the similarity between that and Medusa's hair. Maybe it is just her hair after all. Cellini has cleverly enticed the viewer in here, to take a closer look and therefore involved them in the sculpture as a whole. Once they do come closer, they begin to notice other things such as the similarity between Perseus' hair and Medusa's snakes. Hero and monster are not so separate. Even the features of their faces are very similar. Perhaps Cellini wants to suggest that evil can often wear the mask of good. Or he could even be implying that everyone has some evil within them, even the hero Perseus.  One of the good things about sculpture is that the viewer is able to walk around it, and fully immerse themselves in the piece. Cellini has used this...

Guccio di Mannaia, 'Chalice for Pope Nicholas IV', 13th century

  As the only work remaining of Sienese goldsmith Guccio di Mannaia, the chalice he created for Pope Nicholas IV in the late thirteenth century is an incredibly important work of art. Not only does it highlight the rich, opulent nature of papal commissions, but it proves the talent of Sienese goldsmiths and their resulting influence on painters and sculptors of the period. The chalice is innovative in shape and form, but it is striking first and foremost through the use of gold. It is an object that deserves to be viewed in the flesh, because of its reflective and therefore mimetic potential – like a bronze sculpture it is activated by light and should be experienced in the round as a three-dimensional, highly decorated art object. Its complicated design features an almost architectonic base, star-like as it spills out towards the viewer. The base builds up into the stem of the chalice which is decorated with an array of enamelled plaques featuring saints, prophets, angels and furt...

Artemisia Gentileschi, 'Jael and Sisera', c.1620

  My eye firstly notices the hand wielding the hammer above the unsuspecting man's head. Gentileschi is depicting a new and particularly horrible kind of weapon here instead of the huge sword she gave Judith to slice Holofernes' head off in 1620. The tent peg seems all the more violent, especially as the viewer is looking at the split second before the deed has been committed. Moreover, the gaze of the women (Jael) is focused and calm, making the piece seem unnerving. This is not a moment of hesitation but a snapshot of action - the woman has made up her mind and will commit to this murder. The viewer can only imagine how Gentileschi would have depicted the bloody aftermath, in her usual violent and tenebristic way. The fact that the artist has signed her name in the tomb-like stone above the man is significant - she is signing his life away in this painting, sending him swiftly to the grave.  The body of the man (Sisera) is also interestingly depicted. He lies in a rather eff...