Over the last few weeks, we've been trying to catch up with the flurry of art shows that seem to burst on the scene at this time of year. In London, we managed to dash over to the Tate Britain for a quick look at an exhibition of 19th century British sculpture. We wandered, open-mouthed, through an amazing collection of monumental busts of Victoria herself, and an array of other pieces that heroically recaptured the national past, or glorified the new technologies of the Industrial Revolution in a highly ornamental and overly-decorative fashion. This
Elephant from 1889 is made of lead and tin-glazed earthenware majolica by the Minton Ceramic company and is over seven feet tall!
Here in Paris, the hot ticket is to visit Frank Gehry's new building in the Bois de Boulogne where the Luis Vuitton Foundation Collection is housed.
Like the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, the building itself overwhelms the visitor, with its multi levels, cantilevered roofs, open terraces and around each corner, a great view of the city itself.
Also a view of the two of us, up on the top floor, waiting for the security fellow to open the door to the terrace!
In the permanent collection, though, this sculpture by Thomas Schütte (
Man in Mud) holds its own in scale, not just with this building, but with all the Victoriana we saw in London!
From an earlier era, the Musée d'Orsay building still reflects its original function as the Gare d'Orsay (from where my friend Anne-Marie used to take the train to Orleans as a child), with its arched, skylit ceilings and its huge clock.
Along with its permanent treasures, the museum is currently showing a big retrospective of the paintings of Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947). Setting aside plans to become a lawyer, he devoted his life to painting, joining the group of artists who came to be called the Nabis. Known for his many self-portraits, the studies of his muse (and later wife, Marthe), his friends and neighbors, he turned his eye and brush on the world around him, inviting us into the everyday events of his life, whether picking apples in the garden...
...sharing a meal with the sister of a friend, holding her cat on the table...
...offering an intimate glimpse of his life with Marthe...
...or giving us a bird's-eye-view of his beloved village of Cannet in the Midi-Pyrénées, where he lived for 25 years.
Beautiful as the Bonnard show is, though, two other exhibitions
impressed us even more, not only with their mix of sumptuous, glorious paintings, but with the narrative they spelled out about the challenges of
royal succession in 16th and 17th century England and Spain!
At the Grand Palais, the first exhibition ever organized in France of the works of Diego Velàzquez, is drawing a big audience. Here he is in this self-portrait from around 1650.
Born in Seville on the cusp of a new century (1599), Velàzquez studied in the workshop of Francisco Pacheco, where he completed his apprenticeship and married his teacher's daughter. He also produced many beautiful religious works, like this
l'Immaculée Conception, a reflection of the debate going on at the time as to the truth of the Immaculate Conception. Velàzquez seems to have subscribed to the accepted devotion to the belief, even though the Catholic Church apparently waited until 1854 to officially adopt this dogma!
The crowning years of Velàzquez's life, though, were spent at the court of Philip IV of Spain where, as the King's portrait painter, he brought to life not only the King himself, but jesters, dwarves, actors and the children of Philip. Through these beautiful paintings, you can follow the whole drama of the importance and pressure of dynasty!
The birth of the infant prince Baltasar Carlos seemed to assure the all-important smooth succession, as portrayed in this painting of the robed and sashed young toddler and a dwarf from 1631...
...and even more firmly a few years later with the lively lad on his pony. But, alas, Baltasar Carlos fell victim to fevers and died at age 17 years, throwing the King and the Court into despair on the question of succession.
The infant Marie-Thérèse became the sole heir to the now widowed Philip, and her portrait was taken around the courts of Europe in search of a suitable suitor to continue the Spanish line!
Philip, looking so regal in this painting, then married his niece Marie-Anne of Austria, with whom he had five children.
Another son, Felipe Prospero, the new heir apparent, was born in 1657, and dutifully captured on canvas by Velàzquez, only to die four years later.
Once again, a sister, Marguerite, stepped forward, shown here in perhaps one of Velàzquez's most famous paintings. This portrait was sent to Vienna where her future marriage to Léopold 1 was arranged. Further paintings went back and forth, chronicling the growing up of the two young children.
The last of Philip's five children was another boy, Carlos, who slipped on the robes of succession when Philip IV died in 1665, taking the name Charles II. Due to his young age, his mother, Marie-Anne, served as Regent for over ten years. In spite of two marriages, Charles II died childless and heirless in 1700. His French grand-nephew, Philip, Duke of Anjou, succeeded him to the Spanish throne as Philip V, ending the line of the Spanish Hapsburgs.
A century earlier, the English Tudors were in a similar pickle. Thanks to the two recent television series of
The Tudors, and
Wolf Hall, their story is gaining a wide audience. And at the Musée du Luxembourg you can follow it in all its detail through some more breathtaking paintings. Here is the iconic image of Henry VIII by Hans Holbein the Younger, resplendent in ermine and embroidered robes, larger than life, exuding "power" from every fibre of his body.
Unlike the Velàzquez show, many of these paintings are by unknown artists. Here's Catherine of Aragon in 1520, Henry's sister-in-law and first wife, whom he married after her husband died, and from whom he was desperate to have a son. Only a daughter, Mary, survived.
Following the anullment of his marriage to Catherine, Anne Boleyn, perhaps the great love of Henry's life, followed, but with no more success, leaving a daughter, Elizabeth, and losing her head into the bargain.
When Jane Seymour died in childbirth, Henry charged Holbein to scour Europe and bring paintings of prospective brides. Holbein made this lovely miniature watercolor of Anne of Cleves who became Henry's wife number 4, but the marriage ended six months later with no issue.
As Henry continued to plough through two more marriages, the little son of Jane Seymour, Prince Edward, grew from infancy, as shown here in another richly painted portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger...
...to a fine looking young man, resplendent here in robes similar to those worn by his father in the Holbein painting. On the death of Henry in 1547, he succeeded as Edward VI. He was ten years old. His uncle, Edward Seymour, guided him as Regent, but history dealt another blow when the young man died at age 15, plunging the country into another succession drama!
In the turmoil that followed, it was Mary, the daughter of Henry and Catherine of Aragon, who received the most support from the English nobility. She became the first female Queen of England at the age of 35 in 1553. And quickly became known as "Bloody Mary" as she tried to turn the clock back against the Protestant faith and restore Catholicism. In this Anthonis Mor portrait you can sense her iron will and piercing eyes that must have struck fear into those around her.
Mary's reign of terror ended with her death in 1558, allowing the succession to go to the daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth.
During her 40-year reign, Elizabeth ruled over what is known as the "Golden Age", when England prospered, held sway over land and sea...
...defeating Spain in the great naval battles of the Armada. This portrait by an unknown English artist was made in 1558 to celebrate that victory.
But over it all, the same question of succession still hung! Prospective husbands from all over Europe pressed their suit, to no avail. Elizabeth's last great love was Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, seen here in this painting by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger. He fell out of favor, though, was tried and executed for treason in 1601.
Elizabeth died two years later, still a "virgin" Queen in terms of heirs of succession.
In another one of those twists of historical fate, it fell to the son of Elizabeth's second cousin Mary Queen of Scots (executed by Elizabeth in 1587), James VI of Scotland, to assume the throne, becoming James I of England, ending the Tudor era and beginning the reign of the Stuarts.
Here he is in a portrait from 1621 by Daniel Mytens the Elder, a Dutch portrait painter who spent much of his career in England. With the ascension of James I in 1603, Scotland and England became one country, the United Kingdom, a union that, ironically, some 412 years later, is now in danger of disintegrating. As a half-English/half-Scottish lass, I for one dearly hope the union holds!
À bientôt!
