This article is a revised version of one originally written and published (on another blog) in 2013.
It seems to me after the experience of attending two art schools in the 1970s and living a life since then of painting and looking at pictures, that many people - including some art teachers and gallery people - have only the vaguest idea of how to look at a painting, and of how to interpret what they are seeing. In fact, when I attended art school, there was absolutely no time or instruction given to this complex and necessary skill; one has the impression that what many people 'see' when looking at art works is what they have been conditioned to see, they don't however, know how to 'look'.
I am referring to the 'technical-structural' analysis of pictures or objects which have been made to appeal primarily to the visual sense and, very often, to the intellect as well. Although a broad and, even better, an in-depth knowledge of the history of (Western) art and associated ideas is highly desirable, the ability to analyse a picture can to some degree be learnt independently of these other aspects. In a way, it is like learning the ABCs and basic grammar of a language - and art is a language - before going on to the more advanced grammar and syntax. Unfortunately - from this point of view - because up until the very beginning of the 20th century most Western fine art was in some way or other concerned with images of the 'real' world, many people believed that, since they could recognise the objects which made-up the images they were looking at, they could therefore understand them. This notwithstanding, the vast majority of people would have been hard-pressed explaining just why any given image 'worked' - or didn't - as art. In the first place, understanding how a painting or sculpture works is not in any way related to whether one likes the thing or not; that old chestnut "I know what I like ..." has absolutely nothing to do with the objective merits or otherwise of any given work of art. And here we return to the question of knowledge because the merits of a piece cannot be understood or explained without it!
But, how do we, how can we, look at pictures and artwork generally so as to understand the visual phenomena presented to us by the artist? One way to begin would be to go into a recognised (probably public) art gallery and, concentrating on only a few similar pictures, focus on one or two aspects or elements of those pictures, for example, space and line. If we then ask ourselves the questions: "What things appear near us (in the painting), what things appear further away?", that would be an excellent starting point. This is because the simulation, or not, of 'real' space on a two-dimensional surface has been one of the major concerns of artists since at least the time of the ancient Greeks. If we can answer these questions about one picture (or other artwork) and then answer them about two or three others by different artists, we are already on the way to comprehending how the different artists concerned have tackled one of the fundamental problems in realistic and even abstract painting! Already we will have seen quite divergent ways of dealing with one and the same problem, that of space. All the more so if the chosen pictures are from different periods of art history!
The following therefore is a comparison of two paintings with the same theme, one of which is part of a fresco cycle painted by Piero della Francesca in the church of San Francesco in Arezzo, Italy and completed around 1466; the other is a large oil painting on canvas, now in the Art Gallery of New South Wales (AGNSW), in Sydney, Australia; this latter picture was painted in 1890 by the English academic painter Edward Poynter.
The Meeting of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon by Piero della Francesca (1412 - 1492). Approximate dimensions: 168 x 373 cm.
The general condition of these frescos in the church of San Francesco is good considering their age but there are lacunae and some serious degradation of certain areas of colour; a restoration was carried out in the 1990s. Let's examine this painting first.
- frieze-like composition, that is, the figures are arranged more or less in a line across the surface of the wall, even if, actually, they form a sort of circle; the action takes place in a relatively shallow space defined by a 'classical' loggia
- all figures are much the same size as each other
- all the actors are vertical, that is, standing upright, except for the Queen who bows to greet the King
- the Queen and her retinue 'enter' from the right: this is to separate this scene from the one immediately to its left; normally, but not always, in Western art, narrative or story pictures 'read' from the left, in the same way that we read books from left to right. In fact, in the related fresco to the left of ours, the action happens in exactly this way
- stage left and stage right: one male figure and one female figure respectively have their backs to us, helping to form a loose circle around the centrally-placed principal protagonists (the Queen and King)
- all the figures in this fresco are dressed in contemporary clothes, that is, in Italian Renaissance fashion and NOT in historically accurate costume (a similar thing may be seen again in Tiepolo's Banquet of Cleopatra canvas in the National Gallery of Victoria, Australia; that is, none of the actors in an event which occurred in the late 1st century BC is wearing historical Egyptian or Roman costume even if Antony's looks vaguely Roman)
- costumes are simple, not elaborate, except for those of the Queen and King who both wear one beautifully-patterned article: the Queen a dress (?), hardly visible under a white cloak, and Solomon a gold-embroidered cloak
- Solomon's long garment, once a type of ultramarine (?) blue, is now very badly degraded, as is his gold cloak, affecting our ability to read the colour relationships correctly; he appears to be almost absent from the head down but originally, his dark blue costume would have had a much more solid and determining impact
- the figures stand out against the flat marble wall-panels of a Greco-Roman palace or hall consisting of two rooms or areas; it has fluted columns and heavy architraves, all grey-white; the rear wall panels represent various types of marble; the effect is of austere restraint
- the group with Solomon is entirely male, that with Sheba female
- in each group, male and female, there is one member who appears to be looking at us (the viewers)
- every figure - except for one female in profile - including the two main characters, has its mouth closed
- there are no weapons visible nor other extraneous details (curtains, carpets, lamps, etc.)
- the scene is lit from the left, a fact common in any case to many Western pictures; this often varies in frescos when an artist wishes to take psychological advantage of the real light conditions of the space in which the fresco sits; any natural light usually coming from high-placed or centrally-placed windows, as in this case
- we are at eye-level with the participants; we are standing outside the loggia only slightly to the left of the front column, and at a height which enables us to see the tops of the shoulders of the figures closest to us
- this painting is a fresco which means that it is part of the wall itself, an inherent quality of 'buon fresco', that is, paint applied to the wet plaster; under normal circumstances, it cannot be moved
- roughly half the surface is 'empty' space devoted to the architecture and therefore to Piero's passion, perspective
- in terms of naturalistic realism, this picture is 'unrealistic' but 'intellectually essential'
- in summary, an intellectually defined psychological expression of the meeting of opposites
The Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon by Edward Poynter (1836 - 1919)
Dimensions: 234.5 x 350.5 cm. Oil on canvas, general condition very good. Let's examine Poynter's painting now.
The scene is set within a deep triangle formed by two sides of an enormous imagined ceremonial hall or palace creating a strong illusionistic effect. The Queen approaches Solomon along a low diagonal which leads from the left of the painting to the right, across the centre of the composition; our position is that of a spectator situated presumably along the wall opposite the one with the sun-lit column. The overall effect is one of unlimited power and wealth.
- the Queen is almost the centre of the composition; she ascends to greet Solomon, he descends to greet her
- nearly all the figures face the meeting itself, that is, they are watching what is taking place in the middle of the picture; consequently many look across the hall in our direction; there are numerous poses and positions with only one main figure - the slave-girl in the Queen's retinue - having its back fully towards us
- all figures are lower than Solomon, including Sheba
- all the figures are dressed in costumes thought at the time - the late 19th century - to be more or less accurate vis-à-vis the historical period of the encounter; this is a notable difference between the two pictures under discussion here: Piero della Francesca made no attempt to imitate the clothing of the Biblical Israel whereas Poynter has gone to great lengths to do just that; certainly he has not dressed his actors in late 19th century garb - probably a good decision! His palace however resembles much more closely what was possibly the case in the time of Solomon
- many different materials have been represented: marble, cloth of many kinds, peacock feathers, precious stones, gold, copper, bronze, the skin of fruits, the fur of monkeys, etc.
- the setting is very elaborate and therefore notably different from the austerity of Piero's image; it is probably based on contemporary archeological discoveries: many details of ancient architecture, materials, colours (the red of the columns for instance); there is an indication of sunny daytime visible at the top of the hall where the curtain is attached and above the wall opposite us; but similarly to Piero's fresco, about half the picture space is given to architecture
- important here is the position of the viewer: we are supposedly standing, or are at least high enough to easily look down on the floor and the tops of the stairs: our eye-level seems to be approximately that of the white edge running horizontally behind the Queen
- there is much historical detail in the costumes of the figures although the Queen's train seems more like an invention!
- the principal colours are red in many areas and gold, white and green
- to modern eyes, the Poynter resembles a scene from a movie, a so-called Biblical epic although, doubtless, the influence went the other way, that is, the makers of Biblical epics probably took at least some of their cues from paintings such as this one
- this picture, because of its attempt to be historically accurate is the more 'realistic' interpretation, helped as well by the academic mode of drawing the figures, that is, with a high degree of anatomical accuracy
- finally, this picture is framed in a very large, highly-worked golden frame of the period which incidentally, provides a kind of 'window' into the depicted scene; it independently hangs on a wall and can be moved.
Discussion
Apart from the subject, what do these two pictures have in common? In both, there is an ancient setting; the Queen is portrayed in a lower position relative to Solomon (although in the Arezzo painting, this is achieved by her bowing action); the event occurs in a palace or at least, in a grand building: in both cases, the artist has rendered the architecture using perspective but also the contemporary discoveries of and interest in specific ancient structures; both paintings are very large. But really, the dissimilarities in them are the more obvious qualities: let's look at these in some detail.
We'll begin with the AGNSW canvas. That fact, that it is on canvas - and therefore transportable - is a major difference: this version of the meeting of Solomon and Sheba was painted in England in 1890 and bought in 1892 by the AGNSW - on the other side of the world! The Piero della Francesca in Arezzo is a fresco painting and, under normal circumstances immovable. (Frescos can in fact be lifted off their walls but this operation is normally done when restoration of both the fresco itself and its mural support require serious attention; and oddly, it is a fresco (the Hercules), by Piero of all people, which has ended up in a gallery in Boston, USA, an entire ocean and part of a continent away!). Poynter's canvas is a stand-alone, single statement, self-contained and independent - that is, of any particular building or related narrative; the Piero on the other hand, was conceived as part of a narrative cycle (a series of related images illustrating a story) - The Legend of the True Cross - and is meant to be seen as one element in that story, not as a stand-alone image. Indeed the subject itself is related to the building the fresco is in, both being connected with the Franciscans. Nevertheless, because of its design, Piero's painting is separated from its neighbour by the 'wall' of (painted) columns and this enables it to be considered, as here, as an individual work of art.
But, back to the Poynter: it is very large and, at first sight, very impressive. There is obvious scholarship here: the artist, possibly advised by others (historians, archeologists, architects), has studied many of the facts and findings coming to light in archeological digs in the eastern Mediterranean at that time; he, like other academic painters, 'shows-off' as it were his knowledge of the historical period's architecture and decoration, the clothing and costumes of high-ranking chiefs and royalty, of places such as Egypt, Palestine, Babylon and so on. His rendering of many different textures, from the plumage of birds to marble and gold, is masterly; he was a highly-skilled craftsman, typical of academic history painters all over Europe in the 19th century, and a skilled choreographer: behind and around the main foreground action he has arranged a huge cast of courtiers, nobles, soldiers and slaves to witness the historic meeting. As a foil to this, it might also be mentioned that at that time, the 1890s, Impressionism was already an established painting movement!
The use of two sides of a triangle - the two red-columned 'walls' which enclose the vast room in which the scene is set - and a rising diagonal leading the Queen, and us, up towards Solomon, is a clever bit of staging. We are encouraged to believe that we too are actually there, witnessing this meeting, in the same way that at the cinema or theatre, the stage design, the lighting, the props and various subtle cues all co-operate to entrance us, to conjure in our eyes, and then our minds, the illusion that we are observing - if not taking part in - a real occurrence. Edward Poynter has worked very hard to convince us of the, at least potential, reality of his invention (such large complex works were in fact sometimes referred to as 'machines'!). I think that to a large extent, he has succeeded.
But at this point a question arises: is Art meant to be 'reality' in that sense? Is that the point of Art, to substitute a pictorial reality - a painted representation of physical reality - for the genuine one, that is, for reality itself? Perhaps 'substitute' is not the correct word, rather to 'imitate' physical appearance as closely as possible; but what precisely is the point of that? - especially when we consider that many periods in art history had little or no interest in such absolute accuracy, in fact, many actually rejected the literal representation of the physical world (Byzantine and Islamic art to name only two). To a certain part of these questions however I would answer 'yes': one of the functions of art is to make (create) a reality or realities; but I don't think the point is to paint a substitute for the real thing. In fact, much if not all successful 'realistic' artwork, while it may be 'about' reality, does not attempt to re-create it, nor to substitute the art object for the real one. That said, there are twentieth-century styles such as photo-realism and hyper-realism, in both painting and sculpture, which do actually aim at re-creating the physical world, but to such a degree that reality itself is accentuated in one or more facets so as to be, paradoxically, 'unreal! Trompe-l'œil painting (usually still-life) was an earlier manifestation of this where the extreme realism of the image was such as to 'trick' the viewer into attempting to perhaps take something off the painting (hence the French term, trompe-l'œil meaning 'deceive the eye').
During the period when the AGNSW painting was being made, photography was being developed and one of its initial uses was that of recording: if you wanted a memento of your visit to Paris, you no longer had to buy a painting of the scene (or Seine!), such as Grand Tourists did, all you needed was a camera. The development of photography made clear this fact, that actually art is not a substitute for reality itself but is, at the end of the day, a new reality created by an artist on his or her paper, board, canvas or wall. The artwork is not external reality itself; the painter who merely paints exactly what is in front of him or her is in a sense, a human camera! It is interesting that, at the height of a sort of academic illusionistic mania in the plastic arts - that is, during the 19th century - an invention appeared which put an end to it ... the camera! Interesting too that also during that same period, as mentioned earlier, the Impressionists and others that followed were revolting against all of that academic ethos.
We can admire a painting or a statue and perhaps comment on how 'life-like' it is; of course, when we do this we are complimenting the artist on his or her skill in, let's say, drawing the human body. But, if we look more closely, we'll begin to see that in many great paintings and sculptures the 'reality' is an illusory and that what we are actually looking at is a point of view - the artist's point of view about something in the physical world, the human body for example. However, when artists began to realise that, on a canvas, actually they were free to do as they wished - particularly as the camera had released them from the anchor of realistic representation - they began to make images that were apparently less and less to do with the visible tangible world; many began to openly explore another world altogether: the internal, and often spiritual one. This exploration did not in fact begin in the 19th century; artists such as Piero della Francesca, in the 15th century, had already been constructing their own reality: in Piero's case, an intellectual one which much later artists at the beginning of the 20th century picked-up on and developed further (Malevich, Mondrian, et al).
The AGNSW picture, as impressive as it is, is in one respect however unconvincing: it is emotionally neutral, not to say flat. In this painting we see a lot of 'reality' certainly, scholastic, historical reality, as well as three-dimensional illusionism. But we feel, or sense, no feeling, no spirit, no engagement on the part of the painter - no point of view! For all its obvious skill it seems to lack one of the most important elements usually seen in great works of art: the passionate engagement of the artist with his or her own work.
If we now look at the Arezzo fresco, certainly there is nothing like the amount of historical exactitude that Edward Poynter has included in his picture. Apart from setting the scene in a comparatively sober Greco-Roman loggia - itself historically inaccurate for the time and place of the visit of the Queen of Sheba - Piero has included not one single piece of historical information. The costumes worn by the actors in Piero's play are the ordinary clothes of any well-to-do citizen in the Arezzo or Florence of his day; his actors are dressed as the people one might have seen on any day of the week, walking the streets of a Medieval or Renaissance city in central Italy. They wear the fashionable but understated heavy woollen material for which Florence was well-known in the Europe of that time. They wear the hats - the women, the transparent, fine linen headdress - typical of the better-off of Piero's day. He has decided to gain a psychological hold on the members of his audience by reflecting them back to themselves on the walls of their own church! He was clearly not interested in the historical staging of the event; he was much more concerned to have his audience identify with his actors and not to place a temporal distance between actor-protagonist and audience. What he was doing was making a picture using drawing, perspective, colour, proportion, scale; he was interested in his drawing, in the rhythm of the colours, in the psychological dynamics between the two groups in the encounter. He wanted his viewers (and us) to see his world, not one about which he knew, personally, almost nothing.
Piero's setting could hardly be simpler: he provides the minimum, not wanting us distracted from the drama of this meeting; he wants this meeting, and the physical contact between the two main protagonists, to be our only focus. Unlike the AGNSW picture, the fresco's centre of attention is the handshake of the Queen and Solomon; in the Poynter, the central area is actually a large, open space which allows our eyes to shift from the foreground drama to the background. In doing this the English academic artist subtly removes our attention from the ostensible subject of his picture to the marvellous scene-painting behind the main action. What we are encouraged to do in fact, is admire his handiwork!
Piero della Francesca instead wants us to think about the deeper significance of this meeting. Actually, we can look at this picture from various points of view; although the subject is the meeting of two monarchs, it is significant that Solomon is surrounded by men and Sheba by women. We have apparent opposites coming together: male and female. In this image, the centre is so important that the artist, while surrounding the King and Queen with a loose circle of attendants, leaves a space open through which we can witness clearly what is happening; we complete the circle. We have no need to go deeper into that area, that image, in fact, we occupy the painter's own space, his own viewing point, the one from which he observed the event. Piero liked large foreground figures which made clear, emphatic statements, unequivocal, unambivalent. His architectural and natural environments are full of clear, bright light.
One critic has claimed, somewhat harshly, that Edward Poynter's figures look "doll-like", I suppose like manikins in a shop window; to our eyes, a similar thing could be said about Piero's figures which do look rather stilted. But I think they also look a little like people photographed, as though caught by the official photographer at some meeting of diplomats. Looking closely at the faces of the secondary characters, one notices subtle expressions which suggest a profounder level to the apparently straightforward portrayal of this particular event. Piero's faces generally, in their seeming detachment, aloofness almost, have the subtlest variations of expression, with no hint of the harsh extremes of some later painting.
* Again, apologies for any eccentric changes in the font size, a function of this site!
