Welcome to A Little Curious, a series of special episodes that will provide you will short and sweet bonus content about the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in art history. A Little Curious will publish in our season's "off" weeks. Enjoy!
This week’s topic: Donatello’s rule-breaking Mary Magdalene.
Works that we take for granted today as masterpieces, or as epitomes of the finest of fine art, could also have been considered ugly, of poor quality, or just bad when they were first made. With the passage of time comes a calm and an acceptance. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are many works peppered throughout art history that were straight-up shocking to the public when they were first presented decades, or even hundreds of years ago.
Today's work of "shock art:" Edouard Manet's Olympia.
Welcome to A Little Curious, a series of special episodes that will provide you will short and sweet bonus content about the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in art history. A Little Curious will publish in our season's "off" weeks. Enjoy!
This week’s topic: the deep relationship between Michelangelo Buonarotti, and a sweet arts patron and poet, Vittoria Colonna.
Works that we take for granted today as masterpieces, or as epitomes of the finest of fine art, could also have been considered ugly, of poor quality, or just bad when they were first made. With the passage of time comes a calm and an acceptance. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are many works peppered throughout art history that were straight-up shocking to the public when they were first presented decades, or even hundreds of years ago.
Today's work of "shock art:" Sargent's Madame X.
Today, we’re uncovering the bizarre artistic love child of Walt Disney and Salvador Dali with their incredible short film, Destino. This is a special bonus episode of the ArtCurious Podcast, exploring the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in Art History.
Loved being a part of ArtCurious's third season? Listen in to hear more in our new BONUS segment, CuriousTalk, for behind-the-scenes goodies, listener questions, and more. This episode recaps details from the last four episodes of the season.
CuriousTalk is hosted by Josh Dasal, from ArtCurious's production partner, Kaboonki. Learn more about Kaboonki's video and marketing capabilities here.
Loved being a part of ArtCurious's third season? Listen in to hear more in our new BONUS segment, CuriousTalk, for behind-the-scenes goodies, listener questions, and more. This episode recaps details from the last four episodes of the season.
CuriousTalk is hosted by Josh Dasal, from ArtCurious's production partner, Kaboonki. Learn more about Kaboonki's video and marketing capabilities here.
The beginning of the Twentieth Century was a glittering time of hope and innovation. It was one of the golden ages of art, particularly in Paris, the glamorous capital of all things cultural, where writers such as Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein hobnobbed and debated ideas with painters like Salvador Dali, Georges Braque and many others who filled the bars, cafes, and salons, working and discussing politics and their idyllic fantasies about what art could be. Thinking and dreaming BIG was the norm-- and collaboration and sharing in each others’ concepts and victories was, too. But there was a shadowy side to such sharing, where friendships and support could morph into jealousy and competitiveness, as the drive to become the best took ultimate control. It is within this sparkling Parisian backdrop that what is possibly the greatest rivalry of art history played out-- what IS modern art, and what should it be?
Gift-giving: it’s one of the primary ways to solidify a relationship. But what happens when gifting goes suddenly wrong, and alters a friendship for good?
There’s an old quote that I’m sure you’ve heard referenced in a million sitcoms or Looney Tunes cartoons- though it actually stems from a 1932 western-- where one character, all flinty-eyed, turns to another, and declares, “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.” It’s an order meant to scare someone away, but it’s also a declaration of the feelings of rivalry, of jealousy, as if it shouldn’t be allowed that two people of similar stature could be functioning-- or even flourishing-- in the same place and time. After all, you couldn’t possibly have two star quarterbacks on the team, or two top valedictorians. Someone always has to be the best, or even more importantly, to be seen by the public as the best. But was this true in the case of the two top female painters in Revolutionary-era France?
In 19th century England, landscape painting transitioned into being something lovely and comparatively calm, and transformed into a personal and stylistic battleground. Landscape: pristine and idealized, or rough, ready, and turbulent? Which one would better express the heart of 19th century British painting?
Anyone familiar with Abstract Expressionism will tell you that this art movement was one where all the insiders or practitioners were more closely involved than many other art movements. Such close confines also made for some serious rivalries, too. But there were other artists who were more intimately involved with one another and their artistic process-- they were married, or were lovers. Such is the case with both Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning --both of whom married women who were incredible artists in their own right. Interestingly, and sadly, when these two spouses are mentioned, it’s very rare that we are treated to sincere commentary just about their works of art. More often than not, we are, instead, given explanations of how these women measure up to their (admittedly more famous) husbands, and are relegated either to a supporting role, or just plain seen as not good enough in comparison. Why is it that such talented women continue to have their posthumous careers and stories marked and shaped by their husbands?
The art world is a man’s world- or, at least, it used to be entirely one. This shouldn’t be surprising to anyone who is a longtime listener of the ArtCurious Podcast, because we’ve touched multiple times on the difficulties that have faced women who have sought careers as artists. Now, thankfully, in the age of #metoo, the male-heaviness of the art world is changing a bit, as it is in other facets of society. But turning back the clock to any other era in history, and the reality is that it was totally a man’s game. And the absolute manliness of it all was compounded intensely in one particular time and place: post-war America, where it was all about brusque machismo, the biggest innovations, and the biggest splash. It was a measuring contest like none other, and two larger-than-life characters were at the center of it all.
One pair of incredible Renaissance artists experienced a particularly epic rivalry. Both were vying for the same patrons, and their professional contempt very quickly got ultra-personal. Today, explore the intense conflict between Michelangelo and Raphael, both seeking approval and projects from one of the most innovative patrons: Pope Julius II.
Rivalries are inherently fascinating, because they typically affect not only the individual rivals themselves, but also a whole ecosystem that can grow up around a rivalry-- spurring it on, and enabling it. Some of the greatest artists in history have engaged in some seriously curious conflicts. What causes these rivalries is fascinating and vast-- is it art and creativity? Is it money and patronage? Or is it simply ego? And are the artists really in conflict with one another, or does it just appear that way, to us, or to their communities? How have rivalries impacted art?
Today, we are starting an all-new season of episodes dealing with some of the wildest and most complicated rivalries in art history, beginning with the purported feud between Northern European heavyweights Judith Leyster and Frans Hals.
We're thrilled to bring a bonus episode to you today. Last August, Jennifer Dasal was asked to speak on the topic of "genius" at CreativeMornings RDU. So what does genius have to do with madness? And how about suffering and sadness? Join Jennifer as she discusses this topic with the poster child for all suffering artists: Vincent Van Gogh.
World War Two was the bloodiest, biggest, and most destructive war of all time, decimating entire countries and taking the lives of millions. And as we have learned over the last 10 episodes of the ArtCurious Podcast this season, art was affected in many different ways due to the impact of the war. Art was used to document the experience of soldiers in battle; created to shape public opinion, values, and inspire the war effort; and to fight the enemy. It was a failed dream of Adolf Hitler, leading us to ask how art could have changed the course of history. And it was a victim in many ways, destroyed, looted, or impossibly altered during the course of events. But after the war ended in 1945 and the dust settled throughout Europe and other theaters of war, the effect of war on the art world lessened and the connections between the two softened. Right? Actually, that’s not what happened at all. And the effects of the Second World War are still being felt throughout the art world today.
It's interesting that literature seems to have cornered the market on artistic depictions of those who experienced the Holocaust firsthand. We think of The Diary of Anne Frank or Elie Wiesel’s Night first and foremost when we think of how war has been creatively represented by those who survived it-- or didn’t survive it. But it turns out that there were many artists who made visual representations of their experiences, too-- and lots of these individuals were prisoners, like Anne eventually became, in concentration camps.
Ah, Hollywood. Nothing goes further than a big celebrity-studded movie to grab your pop-culture attention and to inspire countless articles and think-pieces about a particular topic. A really solid blockbuster can raise a niche book to bestseller status or inspire hopeful imitators. And it can lead to a renewed interest in a certain time period or subject matter. In the case of the 2014 film, The Monuments Men, all of this was certainly true. With superstar George Clooney directing and acting alongside Matt Damon, Cate Blanchett and American treasure Bill Murray, among others, The Monuments Men was almost a guaranteed hit when it was released in February 2014. But if your knowledge of the incredible individuals known as The Monuments Men stems only from this movie--well, then, I’m sorry. And I say that with no disrespect to Mr. Clooney and his team, but honestly? This cinematic take is a well-meaning but saccharine mess. The real story of the men--and women--who risked their own lives to save thousands of works of art is far more fascinating, dangerous, and important, even today.
In a time where the arts are ever-undervalued, it is increasingly important for us not just to support the arts in our communities, but to look back through periods of history where artists were applauded for making a significant difference. And in the case of one very special American troop in the midst of World War Two, artists and creative types were tasked specifically with using their skills to preserve people. Art here became a life-saving force- literally. A force for good, even through multiple means of deception.
