Christopher Moore’s Blog

First, on a light post in Auvers, France. A lost kitty poster…

On the Alexandre III bridge — the clear danger of pissing off the sculpture…

In the late 19th Century, there was a lot of public art, both in France and in England, that personified different industries. It’s like the ruling class just went, “I don’t care what it actually is, just make it look like agriculture.”

Then, there are always the national heroes:

And the institutions they founded:

You start with this, then they take one wall away until you can do it completely free form…

Meanwhile, at the Musee D’Orsay…

Ah, the single life. Here’s a painting of a some 19th century doctors getting ready to perform an autopsy, Entitled: Can’t get a Date.

And finally for today, an encore of “When Sculpture Met Opera” with improvements suggested by a reader….

Au Revoir! mon humide canards de amour. Au Revoir!

Bon Jour. Today more art from Paris,  my dusty love rodents. Come now, enjoy culture, the beauty, creepiness that is public art in Paris…

IN Jardin des Tuileries (or Garden of Tiles, which, we in the U.S. call, The Mall). This one of the many statues that depict athletics.

Our open field running rocks when we play the midget team!

Naked American Football is HUGE in France. Strangely, they use a pigeon as a ball.

Here a tiny defensive linebacker gets owned.

Hit me! I’m open!

The Job Interview:The girls were perplexed…

Where is the pole? I was told there would be a pole?

Just down the path, Marge was shocked, shocked, I tell you, at public shenanigans:

Quit acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You guys were  having a threesome.

On the Alexandre III Bridge (which is one of your fancier bridges anywhere):

When they told Andre that a six men had died mysteriously on the bridge,
he thought they meant that they’d drown. Sadly, no.

Okay, your basic Roman or Greek god, probably high ranking, because of his beard.
Here he’s holding what looks like a giant Sundae Cone and a broken electric guitar and is surrounded by little kids, because that was popular motif at the time.

But what IS this kid doing? And what IS that?

Seriously, WTF is that?

Ah, but a different angle reveals that there’s nothing at all weird about that picture and I have just been Rorchached into making everyone think there was.

A closer look reveals it’s mearly the innocent effigy of a kid blowing a dog.

(It’s rumored that former senator, Rick Santorum, was the model for the kid.)

Back on the Alexandre III bridge:
It’s clear that the gods and goddesses of Paris preferred the Fender Stratocaster:

“Oh Hai, my Dad was in the Cure, want to touch my guitar.”

Before television, fine art was used as a medium for marketing.

Now, a celebrity spokesperson:

Bon Jour! It is I, your tiny Emperor, Napoleon Boneparte. When I’m not building an empire, I enjoy chilling on the couch in La Snuggie. Look, I have made a little tent in here! Josephine, come join me, my darling!

Observe, while I circumsize this unsuspecting Gladiator, with the Super Scissors, from Popiel! Masseltov!

“Regard, mon amis, as I pulverize this tiny angel in one easy step, with Le Ronco, Smash-matic!

Did someone say PIZZA?!!

(insert annoying music)

VIVA, VIAGRA!

It’s his knee. See…

Strangely, though, the name of the sculpture is: “But I Really AM Happy to See You”

(Meanwhile, at the Hotel Invalides – a former hospital for disabled veterans, built in the 1600s, now a military museum.)

Nothing says, “Have a Nice Day”

Like a big-ass cannon.

Really, how bad off are you:

Pick an entrance…

Until next time, I leave you with one of France’s national heroes:

Painted as a Smurf.
(No, that’s not Photoshopped. It’s in the courtyard of the Hotel Deux. I’ll try to get a closer look today.)
Until next time:
Adieu! my murky marmots d’amour. Adieu!

ONE DAY AT THE MUSEE D’ORSAY…

Bon Jour, my slippery pamplemousses, here, as promised, is more art from the Louvre. Today, we start with pieces from the French sculpture collection.

This, very lifelike piece is

“I’m ’bout to lick your bald head.”

Is by Pierre August Rodin, from 1891

This one, from Felix Lecompte, is from 1868, commissioned by the Royal Academie, it’s

“Look, I found this kid hanging on a Tree.”

Here’s a closer look.

Is this guy hanging the kid on the tree, or picking the kid off the tree? Is he trying to breast feed it and thinks it will be easier if the kid’s feet are tied to a branch? This is a confused sculpture. I’m confused.

We’ll never know.

Most, if not all pieces commissioned by the Académie, had to have Mythical Subjects. It was the same with the painting and the Acadamie and the Salon, which were more or less the voices of art of the time. You could paint or sculpt the most heinous or erotic stuff, but it couldn’t be real. It it had to be myth. One of the most popular motifs was Leda and the Swan, in which the God Zeus comes to Leda in the form of a swan, shags her, then she lays two eggs, from which hatch Helen and Polydeuces, (the latter named for his incredibly horrible luck at dice). Funny, you never see any paintings of Leda laying the eggs, only shagging the swan. Makes you wonder. Anyway, here’s one where it doesn’t look like Leda is going to resist that much.

Jean Thierry’s work in marble from 1714,

“Bring a Sweater, Daffy, ‘Cause I am Going to Fuck the Feathers Off of You.”

A compelling theme, don’t you think? Go ahead, say it. You know you’re thinking it.

There, that’s the release that fine art gives the soul.

Here’s one by Edme Dumont, from 1753, and it’s either Cronos or Hercules,
but the title is.

“Sigfrid, bring the stun gun!”

It’s very mysterious. The subtitle is:

“Dude, I’m serious. He’s biting my fucking Leg!”
Of course my translation may be off somewhat. It may be, “Le Dude”.

This is one of my favorite sculptures in the Louvre. Really. It’s by Francios Joeffry, from 1839, it’s a sculpture of Venus, called.

“About your Operation, I’ve Got Some Good News and Some and Some Bad News”

It would be 40 years before Degas would exhibit his sculpture of a fully-clothed dancer of the same age with the Impressionists, and it would considered an outrage, obscene, because, well, because she was real. Things were going to change in art, and it was going to be a big deal, the beginning of Modern Art, which I’ll catch you up on.

Degas “Little Dancer, Age 14″ 1881 (Not in the Louvre

Hang tough. Here’s a couple other pieces that caught my eye.

In this piece from 1782, Claude MICHEL dit CLODION needed to fill a long base-relief, so he just threw in myths until the panel was filled up. It’s Venus, Cupid, Cherubs, Nymphs, all kinds of stuff. I like to call it:

LESBIAN SPANK INFERNO!
(with deference to Stephen Moffat and BBC’s Coupling – a hilarious episode, by the way, if you get a chance to see it.)
But who is this?

DUCK SLUT!
Yes, Leda again. Being a little more coy.
Like she’s going to make the swan buy her dinner this time.

But back to painting for a bit. As you’ve probably gleaned from my posts, I only know how to say about six things in French. One of them, which seemed somewhat useless, was “The Monkey is on the Table.”*

So, imagine my ecstasy, when, while coming up a wide staircase in the Louvre, I happened onto this:

Deux Singes sont sur la Table!
I stood there, middle of the staircase, pointing out to people who passed, that there were, indeed, two monkeys on the table. In perfect fucking French. Really? Would you like to discuss the monkeys? the table? perhaps the number of monkeys? You noticed that they were on the table. I felt like Sister Wendy with a refreshing breeze blowing up my habit.

But then, on the very next landing, this:

That’s right THREE! Three fucking monkeys on the motherfucking table. Or “Trois singes sur la Table,” as I pointed out to all who would listen. Several German people hurried away, even as I followed them up the stairs, pointing out the exact number of monkeys and where, exactly, they were located. (sur la table! sur le table!). Germans have a well-known fear of monkeys, so I forgave them, but how could the guards, the docents, indeed, the skinny guy with the mace and the helmet, not see the importance of such a major work of art? (Frans SNYDER, by the way, Dutch,early 17th Century.) Then they all turned, like pod art people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and pointed to this huge piece, which hung in the same stairwell as the various monkeys on the tables.

They might as well have served Leda a big thanksgiving roasted swan and rubbed its greasy, tumescent giblets in her hair. EVERY-FUCKING-THING was on the table. And, I didn’t know how to say any of that stuff? Hell, I didn’t even know what most of that stuff was. And it wasn’t all “sur la table” like any self-respecting monkey, it was “sous la table” it was all over the place. I hung my head and and mumbled, “Well, fuck you, smug art ninjas, cinque singes sur la table. Cinque!” With equal fluency in both languages. And I skulked away to the Starbucks in the basement of the Louvre to wallow in my own artistic inadequacy.

Sure, I could learn to say, “The evicerated eagle ray is on the table,” in French, but when is that ever going to come in handy? I’m going to have to wander the earth waiting to identify that, and it’s let’s face it, it’s not ever going to be like the monkeys. We always remember our first monkeys.

Gotta go.

Next time we’ll have a short visit from this guy, who we haven’t seen in a couple of years.

BON JOUR!

*Yes, I learned that from Eddie Izzard. Didn’t everyone?

A Note from your host, Sac Poubelle:
Today, my greasy chipmunks, we will have a visit to the Louvre, and I will have to lose my outRAGEous French accent, and along with it, my magnificent animal charm, non? I will let the pig dog Author Guy guide you through our treasures d’art. Commencé imbiceel d’livre.

The Author Guy:
As you know, the Louvre was mostly mythical, until 2005 when it was built as a set for the movie, The DaVinci Code, and Audrey Tatou was installed as the queen of France, overseeing all the French speaking world with her cheeky cuteness, or mignon de joue.

Okay, that’s not exactly and completely true. The Louvre as originally built in the 12th century as a fortress, and over the years was used as a royal palace and residence, and even after the French Revolution (1789), when the revolutionary government established the Louvre as a museum to keep French treasures (yes, including Audrey Tatou) and the French Academy of Art was established there. Until the mid 1800s, the Louvre was surrounded by a slum of lean-tos, and shacks, and even the center courtyard was a slum where poor trades people and scumbags lived. The great impressionist Renoir actually grew up in the slum in the courtyard of the Louvre and recalled teasing the palace guards as a child. Unfortunately, none of the walls or horses that he and his pals tagged have been preserved, otherwise they’d be priceless.

In the 1980s, the a two large glass pyramids were designed by I.M. Pei, and built by the Hebrews in the courtyard (as depicted in the movie The Ten Commandments, with Charlton Heston.)

The giant glass pyramid as an entrance probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but on a hot summer day, it catches sunlight coming into the courtyard and bounces it around, leaving only one small portal for all the heat and people to get out of, so it gets hot. Really hot. This is called the greenhouse effect and is exactly the same way that global warming (and intestinal gas) works, which is why you don’t find any polar bears in the Louvre (or in your butt.)

The first thing you need to know before you go to the Louvre is that it’s huge. I mean really huge. You know how Douglas Adams describes the size of the Universe in the Hitchhiker’s Guide? The Louvre is that big, except inside of a building. A couple of weeks ago the New York Times published an article about how people go to the Louvre but they don’t look at the art. That’s because they only take one day, and you can’t look at all that stuff in one day if you’re going to stop and actually  look at stuff. I’m not sure you could even jog the Louvre in one day unless you were an ultra-marathoner. So, what I’m saying is, if you like art, allow more than one day to look at the Louvre, and if you don’t like art, don’t go, because that’s sort of their specialty and you will hate it. (Unless you are friends with Audrey Tatou and you guys just want to hang out and have some coffee and croissants.)

Here a visitor to the Louvre illustrates to his girlfriend how excited he is about the Louvre. (Note her “You Wish” smile.)

I spent most of the day at the Louvre yesterday, and I didn’t see even see a quarter of the stuff, so I’ll share some highlights with you from the Ecole de Nord (Schools of the North, meaning Dutch, Flemish, and Belgian painters, for the most part) and a few from the French painters collection, which is ginormous. (The photos are from some weird angles and some are a tad fuzzy. You’re not allowed to use flash, and with some of the paintings, the varnish on the surface is so shiny that you have to shoot them at an obtuse  angle or you can’t see the image at all.)

I didn’t Photoshop this. It really is John the Baptist telling you that you can’t use flash.

It’s not really like I need to come up with a caption for this. But let’s call it, FINE TUNING, just for giggles. I swear I thought the Monty Python guys made this one up, but no. This is a portrait of Gabrielle d’Estres, (left, presumably) who was the mistress of this guy:

This is Henry IV, and the thing I love, is how he looks a little embarrassed about killing the dragon he’s standing on. Like he did it by accident. You don’t get that with a lot of royal portraits. I’m guessing from this and the painting of his mistress, that Hank had a pretty fun court.

“Oh, was that your dragon? Sorry, my bad.”

Some royals were not confident enough to show a sense of humor. Like this guy: King Louis VIII

“No, of course I am not gay, despite my outrageously gay outfit.

You can tell because this angel behind me has her breast out, which I love!”

And this painting of the  Cardinal of Granevile by

the Dutch painter Anthonis Vor van DASHORT

“I can’t believe I’m shorter than my dog.”
(The real title is,” The Cardinal de Granville with a really big Dog” which kind of says the same thing, really. Like the Cardinal went, “You’ve got to paint the dog smaller. No? Well, then tell people it’s a really big dog.” )

Now that we’re into the Dutch painters. Let’s look at some Rubens, from who we get the phrase, Rubinesce, typically referring to women who are, let us say, booty-enhanced, or shall we say, gadonkidly gifted, or as the French say, avoir la junque dans la trunque.

This one’s called, “Am I buggin’ you? How ’bout now.”

This is an interesting Rubens as well:

Clearly, not only does Rubens give props to curvalicious ladies of his day, in this one he tells us that not only will old, bald guys get to heaven, they are going to get some action as well.

An old, bald angel makes his move…

Something I’ve noticed about Rubens is that he also had the buffest Jesuses, although there weren’t any in the Louvre, they have some awesome buff Rubens’ Jesuses in Italy and Chicago.

This is Rubens’, The Resurrection of Christ, which shows an awesomely buff Jesus, especially considering he was dead just minutes ago. I think it’s obvious from this painting why Jesus is more popular than Wolverine, despite not putting out a new book in 2000 years.

(Oh, don’t roll up on me all santimonious about Jesus paintings. They weren’t really painting Jesus, they were painting the skinny guy down the street who could take the day off to model because he sold weed for a living and his hours were flexible, so just back off. I’m surprised some paintings didn’t end up with a hacky sac and a vegan girl with dreads in them.)

Think I’m kidding. Check out this anonymous painting from the Dutch School entitled, Virgin, Child and Angels. Notice anything?

No? Look again. IT’S ALL THE SAME FACE!  The artist could obviously only afford one model, so he  just had him pose as every character. You can rest assured that the angels, Mary, and Baby Jesus HisOwnSelf were pot dealers. Baby Jesus, in fact, appears to have twisted up a toothpick spliff to get him through the painting.

And what about this Jesus in the Last Supper by Dutch painter Joos van Cleve (Yes, his real name was Joos.)

Remember the teacher on Beavis and Butthead? Mossy beard in hemp pants guy? Here he is. Yes children, witness,,,,,,, the Beavis Jesus!

Here’s another one by Joos:

I call this one, “Bitch, I Don’t Think So.”

Why? Check out the detail:

“Bitch, I Don’t think So”

Well, this post is getting a little long, so I’ll report tomorrow with more painting and some sculpture. Let me leave you with this one by French scultor, Jean-Baptiste Pigalle, entitled:

“Hey, has anyone seen my tarantula?”

Adieu.

So, it’s been some time since we had an art lesson. For those of you joining the party late, you’ll find links to the earlier lessons below. These are only meant to share with you the delight of discovery that I experience as I drag my dumb ass through the great museums of the world. Today, we turn to the first time to religious themes in painting.
Keep in mind, up until the 16th century, almost all art depicted either history or religious events, largely because the funding for art came from royalty or the church. Therefore, for aritists to stretch their muscles, as far as subject matter, they had to do it either in the context of religious/historical events, or depictions of myth. Thus, we find the same subjects explored over and over again, by many, many different artists. Walk through any art museum and you’ll see a multitude of Madonnas and Childs, Adoration of the Magis, the Assumption of Mary (which I’m not clear on, but from looking at the paintings, I think it has to do with Mary going, “Well, with the wings and halo and bits, I assume you’re a fucking angel.” but we shall cover that in a different lesson.) No, today I want to talk about young girls getting head.
I was wandering through the Chicago Insttute of Art one day last year, when I happened onto this painting the Dutchman Jan Sanders van Hemessen, tucked away among the Madonnas and Crucifixions:

BECAUSE GIRL POWER RULES, MOTHERFUCKER! – Van Hemessen 1600s
The actual title is Judith with the Head of Holfernes. Now, Judy is clearly A)naked B)not particularly shy about it C)in possession of some upper body strength, and D)sporting a crashing big sword. But look just behind Jude’s left butt cheek. Oh yes, the big and more than somewhat detached head of a bearded guy. I was intrigued.(Yes, it appears that Judith has missed a few days at the gym, but later I would find out that she was 19 at the time, so I think the weight can be attributed to “freshman spread”, which a lot of girls go through in their first year of college. She’ll lose the weight when she stops living off beer and ramen noodles.)
So I walked on, and in the next wing I happened onto this painting from 1663, by Feice Ficherelli, also called, Judith with the head of Holfernes:

MUM, SEEMS YOU”VE DROPPED SOMETHING
This is my favorite Judith painting, because Judith is clearly saying, “What head?” After that, I had to go look up what was up with Judy…
Turns out that the story of Judith comes from the Book of Macabees, which is one of the Apocrapha, or what most refer to as the Bogus Books of the Bible. Seems that Jerusalem was under siege by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, and the city was just about to surrender, when a beautiful young widow, Judith, said, “Wait a second. Let me go to the general’s camp and see what I can talk him into.” She was accompanied by her maidservant, who you see in a lot of the paintings. Long story short, Judy chatted up the General (Holfernes), had dinner with him, got hims all fired up, then sawed his head off. Her deed done, she had her maid stuff the head in a bag (I’m not kidding, she didn’t even get dressed. Just, “Grab the head, Midred, we are outta here.”) In the morning, the Babylonian army was all, “Oh, these Jewish babes are fucking crazy. We gone.”
Here’s Ruben’s take on it.

THERE. THAT WILL DO QUITE NICELY. CAREFUL, THE CARPET IS NEW
Here Sirani shows how a couple of kids from the neighborhood have stopped by to help.
CAN WE HIT IT WITH A STICK, JUDY, PLEASE! IT WILL BE EVER SO MUCH FUN.
(note how Judith seems, well, a little detached from her task of bagging the head)
Once you learn the story of Judy and the head, they start coming out of the woodwork at you. Of all the bible stories, why this one, I wonder? It’s about the innate danger of cute girls, isn’t it? Or is it? Hmmm…
These next two are my nominees for cutest Judys:
This one by the Florentine painter, Carravaggio, who was so violent, the Knights of Malta threw him off their island after he painted (yes) The Beheading of John the Baptist, in their chapel. Carravaggio didn’t draw anything. He painted the figures right on the canvas (or wall). And he uses Italian working people as his models. Judy here appears in other paintings as the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene. (Only not sawing anyone’s head off).

LIKE THIS? YOU THINK? OKAY, A LITTLE TO THE LEFT…
This cute Judy has the best outfit ever. by Cristofano Allori
HE LOOKED SURPRISED. DON’T YOU THINK HE LOOKED SURPRISED?
Best hat for head-chopping: By Cranach:
I’M SHY, REALLY. THIS IS MY FIRST HEAD CHOPPING. DO YOU LIKE MY HAT?
This one is actually Salome, which is another great Jewish girl getting head story. Also by Crachach, who loved him some hats:
NO, HE’S JUST SLEEPING. LITTLE DROWSY MAYBE. BUT CHECK OUT THIS HAT!
Then there’s just naked Judys. This one’s by Hans Baldwin:
THAT’S RIGHT, I’M NAKED, SHAVED, AND I’M CARRYING A SEVERED HEAD. YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?
These are the Sneaky Judys. You know, just trying to get it done and quietly and get home: This one is painted by a 17th century Florentine woman,(extraordinary for the time) Artemisia.
WHERE DID YOU PUT MY FUCKING CAR KEYS? LOOK UNDER THE HEAD.
also by Artemisia (I get the feeling she may have been sending a message about standing in her way as a painter)
ANOTHER ONE IS COMING. OKAY, MAKE ROOM IN THE BASKET. I’M GOING TO SHOW HIM MY BOOBS TO STARTLE HIM, THEN START CHOPPING..
Here Artemisia stops being coy and gets down to it:
HOLD STILL MOTHERFUCKER! BLANCH, WHAT’D YOU SHARPEN THIS KNIFE WITH, A MONKEY’S BUTT?
Here she paints it again. It’s like, “Look, I like the way this story ends. Don’t fuck with me.”
NO, I DEFINITELY LIKE IT BETTER WITH THE PURPLE DRESS, DON’T YOU? I SAID HOLD STILL!
I think Artemesia would have liked this Judith by Giorgione:
‘KAY, TELL ME AGAIN HOW THIS DRESS MAKES MY ASS LOOK BIG? GO AHEAD.
Here Dijk Maruitshuis has a Judith who is clearly explaining what just happened.
NO, DUDE, IT WAS SO WEIRD, MY TOP SLIPPED AND HIS HEAD FELL OFF YEAH, FELL RIGHT THE FUCK OFF. GUESS HE HAD A SERIOUS BOOB ALLERGY– LOOK FOR A MEDIC ALERT BRACELET OR AN INHALER OR SOMETHING.
Here’s a very coy Judy by Vincent Sellaer, a Flemish painter:

NO, IT’S NOT MINE. OH, THE SWORD? UH, I WAS GOING TO MAKE SOME STIR FRIED VEGGIES OH MY, I MUST HAVE DROPPED MY APRON!
And finally, the sexiest Judith, by Gustave Kiimt, around the turn of the 20th century, one of the few Art Nouveu painters (we’ll talk about that another time)I looked at prints of this painting for years, thinking it was someone that Kilmt must have known, since he used the model for other paintings. It was only after I learned about Judy’s Head that I saw the head in the picture. (lower right corner, duh)

SHAGGED IT OFF HIM. WHY? YOU BUSY?
So, that’s the art history of Judith and Holfernes. Maybe I’ll do the story of the only biblical girl to get more head than Judith, Salome, when I get some time. Meanwhile, here are the links to the earlier lessons in art:
http://bbs.chrismoore.com/viewtopic.php?t=4301
http://bbs.chrismoore.com/viewtopic.php?t=4313
http://bbs.chrismoore.com/viewtopic.php?t=4319
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