Skip to main content

Anthony Van Dyck, 'Ecce Homo', 1621-7

 

It is difficult for the eye to decipher the true subject of this work. Most critics agree that Van Dyck depicts an Ecce Homo, the Latin words with which Pontius Pilate presented Christ, although others prefer to label it as a Man of Sorrows. Certainly the pain, emotion, resolution and turmoil is visible in both Christ's features and his body language. Like many artists Van Dyck seems attracted to this subject displaying deep suffering. The choice of a three-quarter length, turned profile allows the artist to exploit the stark nudity of Christ against a dark background. The flesh is dimpled, the arms veined and muscled, with flecks of blue in the canvas to give a human touch to Christ. The hands of Christ are brought in front of him, tied to show his capture and torment. A single tear drops down his deeply shadowed face, the twisting profile allowing Van Dyck to present heightened emotion. The light from his crown of thorns is all that pierces the darkness, echoed by the heavenly glow that seems to emanate from his pale skin. 

But there is another figure in this painting, difficult to see on the reproduction. In the right corner a Sub-Saharan African soldier spreads the royal robe behind Christ's back in a mocking gesture. His grinning face is disconcerting in the midst of the suffering of Christ, coupled with his twinkling eye. The contrast of the light and dark skin has been made very clear by the artist, as the black soldier is almost lost to the darkness of the canvas background completely. In this painting whiteness seemingly connotes power, incorporating seventeenth century racial views into the scene and ideas that still ring true today. Despite some sort of tear shape that falls from the eye of the black soldier mirroring Christ, recent examination of the painting has determined that this is a splash mark on the varnish. These details are much easier for the eye to digest in person at the Barber Institute in Birmingham. 

The painting is said to have come from the Palazzo Balbi in Genoa. Van Dyck certainly spent several years in Italy collecting works by fellow masters, and amassed a small but well focused collection. He certainly owned one religious subject by Titian, which happened to also be an Ecce Homo. However he recorded a number of different versions of the subject in his Italian Sketchbook, which perhaps shows why these piece is so emotionally evocative. A Man of Sorrows also by the artist is held in the Courtauld collection and has been suggested by Count Seilern as a modello for the later work in Birmingham. The rendering of both anatomy and drapery certainly is more developed and finished than the painting Seilern refers to. The drooping, weighty head of Christ coupled with the unsettling nature of the soldier come together in this particular piece for added emotional power.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Nicola Pisano, 'Adoration of the Magi', Pisa Baptistery Pulpit Panel

  In this complex, lively, exciting pulpit panel the eye looks up towards the monumentality of the Virgin, who commands this scene. She is massive and powerful, the largest figure with thick swathes of drapery delineating her forcefully protruding knees out into the viewer's space. Seated but still retaining dominance, she defines the classicising style of Nicola Pisano, witnessed throughout the panels of his pulpit in Pisa. Many writers have described the style - Eloise Angiola for instance, refers to the 'sophisticated understanding of classical prototypes to create heroic human forms' in Nicola's pulpit. Certainly in Pisa the prominent debris from the classical past remained visible and Nicola easily had access to various ancient sarcophagi for direct emulation here. The Virgin's features with her serene expression and curled hair beneath the mantle are in fact quite androgenous. She quickly assumes the position of a monumental Roman Emperor or Senator commanding

Marianne von Werekin, 'Sunrise', 1920

  An endless line of men that tug the rope of a small boat soon disappear into murky, burning red waters beyond. Colour is fantastical, mystical and otherworldly, producing an atmosphere far from reality. This is the Symbolist work of Marianne von Werefkin, part of the German Expressionists that worked in Munich from the 1910s. A movement so often dominated by the male names of the time – Kandinsky especially – Werefkin was a vital participant, expanding the range of art produced and displayed, complementing her work with art theory and written sources, as well as creating her own Salon upon her arrival in Munich. It is easy to get lost in biography with a piece such as this. Wasted, human potential seems to be at the heart of this work, signalled by the endless line of men pushing forward towards the edge of the picture plane. There is a sense of struggle and a universality to the suffering through the portrayal of faceless men in similar blue tones. Looking at the date produced of 19

Mark Rothko, 'Light Red over Black', 1957

  My eye is not drawn to the painting itself but the title of the painting, 'Light Red Over Black'. We would automatically think that the black is on top of a red background, but Rothko has flipped this around, subverting the title just like he subverting the meaning of what it was to be an artist and what Art actually was. During this time, art was going through rapid changes, with abstract expressionism coming into full force (Rothko, Pollock). But Rothko showed that all this change was for the good, even if for him, it was short lived.  The colour red in this painting is searing and the black struggles to fully cover this velvety border, especially at the bottom of the canvas. Unlike the black squares which have a hazy quality to their edges, the red is clear and impregnable. It is hard to figure out what this represents - the Tate has suggested a window perhaps, but if it is a window then what are we looking out into? Perhaps it is night, or perhaps the viewer is catching a