Today marks the one year anniversary since we launched our very first episode! This is a special episode for you, our listeners. Many of you called, emailed, and contacted us on social media to ask questions big and small. Here are some of my favorites.
It was the most widespread war in history, involving the participation of more than one hundred million people from around the world, including the greatest powers across the globe: the United States, Great Britain, France, Germany, China, Japan, Italy, and the Soviet Union. It affected life in myriad ways: economically, politically, industrially, scientifically, ideologically. And its reach was one of the most horrible. Between the deaths on the battlefield and the mass killings of civilians, an estimated 50 to 85 million fatalities occurred, making it the deadliest conflict in all of recorded human history. And yet, at the same time, it spurred on glimpses of positivity in the midst of this darkness: giving rise to the so-called Greatest Generation, and leading to advances in medicine and aviation, in information technology, and many other sectors.
This was World War Two. But what did the war have to do with art? And how are the effects of the war still being felt today?
Death has always been a part of art history. That's one of the beautiful things about art-- it can detail and document and celebrate every facet of our existence. And so much of the great art that we know and love today works in the capacity to stave off one of the terrible side effects death-- being forgotten. Portraits, stone monuments, ancient coins-- they all aim to ensure that the subjects depicted will be remembered and revered for all eternity.
But Andy Warhol’s take on mortality wasn't about memorializing. He instead focused on the direct causes of death, or the aftermath of a terrible accident. His series, Death and Disaster, is one of the most well-known and polarizing of his career. But Warhol wasn't the first artist to focus on the everyday tragedy of death as a subject to quite this revealing and exploitative extent. No, that honor might very well belong to someone else-- an immigrant photographer working in Manhattan in the 1930s and 1940s.
In this episode, we discover the subject matter and motivations behind Andy Warhol's Death and Disaster series, and relate them to the work of the greatest crime scene photographer in history, Weegee.
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, had an image problem: she was seen as frivolous, silly, and out-of-touch. In order to combat her poor press, the royal court commissioned a series of portraits of the queen to make her more relatable and sympathetic. Such images act as excellent propaganda machines, giving Marie Antoinette a much-needed positive spin. But what is even more marvelous is the backstory of the artist who created these portraits-- because the painter who was chosen to portray the highest woman in the land was… another woman.
Talk about a revolution.
In the third episode of the ArtCurious Podcast, we'll look at the lucky and semi-charmed life of Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, one of the most popular painters of 18th-century France and the official court painter of Marie Antoinette.
Today’s special episode of ArtCurious is the end result of a collaboration with art historian Ellen Oreddson and her excellent blog, How to Talk About Art History. Ellen has her own contribution to this topic on her site, where she lists five artists, inspired by the five women artists hashtag, and briefly discusses why each has been left out of the traditional art historical canon. Don't miss this insightful and fascinating post!
Conservators are art heroes: they transform damaged or dirty works of art into beautiful, fresh works for public consumption. Then why is it that conservation has been at the center of some of the biggest art historical controversies of the last fifty years? What does a conservator really do, and what happens when conservation goes too far?
We are incredibly thrilled to release a bonus episode with our friend, Andrea Parrish, at A Thousand Things to Talk About! This daily podcast is the perfect start to your morning, with a brief 2-3 minute episode with thought-provoking questions and research. A Thousand Things to Talk About also offers the occasional "deep dive," and we're so excited to be a part of this one-- What is Art? It's a question that seems simple, but in reality, is it?
Over the centuries, there have been numerous examples of fine artists creating works of art that deliberately work with and within contemporaneous medical thought, portraying people with particular ailments or diseases. But what about if we turn that concept around a little bit? What happens when those in the medical field turn to paintings or sculptures from the past and retroactively investigate the health of the individuals depicted therein? What happens when art history turns into a diagnosis?
Venice-- it's the most serene and beautiful city in Italy, and possibly the whole world. But Venice at night-- all darkened and quiet-- takes up the most space in my imagination. I seriously love the depictions of Venice as enigmatic, shadowy, and even dangerous. Without cars or streetlights or other modern comforts, you might feel like you’ve stepped back in time and that around any given corner, you could find… anything. All of this lends Venice this air of inscrutability and mystery. And over time, locals and visitors alike have reveled in this sensation as fodder for myth-making and storytelling. Some stories really stick, lasting for centuries and becoming embedded into the city itself, through its buildings, monuments, and specific locations. And there’s one building that has had plenty of legends built around it. This particular elegant structure had an illustrious past, having once been a meeting place where Italian Renaissance artists discussed their craft, caroused, and gambled. But it’s also the location where relationships soured, crimes were committed, and death inevitably followed. Today, some people won’t even enter this particular building because it is feared to be haunted, cursed… or both.
Sometimes when I am looking at a particularly fascinating work of art, I find myself overwhelmed with awe-- for the creative act itself and the technical prowess that was needed to bring it to fruition. I’ve often had those moments where I have thought to myself, “Wow. How did this all come about? What is the inspiration behind this piece?” And any conversation about inspiration in the arts inevitably brings up a discussion about muses. This episode looks at the relationship--and occasional romance-- between artists and their muses, with a particular emphasis on one woman whose connection to two brothers illustrates this exchange in a compelling way.
