The current exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery is 'Ribera: Art of Violence' featuring the works of Jusepe de Ribera, an early 17th century Spanish painter who settled in Naples (which was governed by Spain at the time). It was probably in Naples that he saw the works of Caravaggio and that's clearly influenced Ribera's style of painting. I don't know anything about Ribera so this exhibition was an eye-opener and, to be clear, it's just focusing on one aspect of his work. It's a familiar aspect, though, since I've seen his work before, and one painting in particular I actively dislike - but more of that later.
The first room of the exhibition features two large paintings of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' painted almost 20 years apart (1628 and 1644). There are quite a few renditions of St Bartholomew as you wander through the exhibition, along with paintings and drawings of other saints at the moment of their agony, such as St Peter and St Sebastian. That's the theme of this exhibition - the moments of pain and agony felt by the early Christian martyrs and others. The signs tell us that 'Ribera was primarily concerned with exploring the contorted and restrained male body' and that the Church wanted art to 'inspire piety by arousing strong emotions'. It does that all right.
The later painting of St Bartholomew being flayed alive because he destroyed the images of pagan gods is the one that really captured my attention since the saint looks out of the painting with a piercing direct gaze - would you go through this for your god?
The next room took me back a few years to when I saw the main painting in an exhibition at Musee Jacquemart-Andre in Paris. Titled simply 'Saint Bartholomew' (1612) I wrongly thought the old man was the saint (the labels at the exhibition were in French) but the old man with the knife is holding the flayed skin of the saint. It's quite stark really. I didn't like this painting when I first saw it and I don't like it now. The background is a bit intriguing and 'modern' though.
This is where the drawings take over the exhibition, lots of drawings - and they're really good - where the artist tries out different positions of the subject matter for what will probably become paintings, tries to capture different body shapes for later use and so on. A few of the drawings capture physical illnesses and others capture torture and punishment. Not many are very pleasant viewing, especially when he he depicts the results of torture, such as a drawing of a man strung up by his arms defecating because the pain means he can't control his bowels. Not very pleasant stuff. I can only think that Ribera watched it happening so that we don't have to.
One of the drawings that really caught my eye was the 'Crucifixion of Saint Peter' from the early 1640s in ink (brush and pen). Look at that contorted body of an old man as he's man-handled onto an inverted cross. But also look at the two men handling him, the effort that's going into crucifying him, with a third pulling on a rope. A lot of effort is going into killing and humiliating an old man. There's a similar drawing hing close by of the same scene but with the cross at a more manageable angle.
The labels refer to Riber using real models for his works and I can well believe it. Some of his drawings look as if they're him trying to work out the best composition for a painting and the bodies and faces in the paintings look like real people. That's you and me in those paintings, warts and all.
Ribera also tried his hand at print making to be able to more easily spread his art and skill and, hopefully, get more commissions. There's a very detailed print of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' from 1624 (I told you he kept cropping up as a favourite subject) which shows the skin being flayed from his arm while bound to a tree. Leaving the subject matter to one side, it's a great little print with loads of detail but I have to wonder why anyone would want this in their collection.
So there you have it, flayings, hangings, torture, executions and all sorts of nastiness going on, all captured on the canvas or on paper by Ribera. One of the labels in the exhibition assumes that Ribera saw someone burned at the stake because of a drawing on that happening and his name prominently saying 'Ribera was here' across the bottom. Um, OK.
The final, large painting has a room to itself and is kept dark with a curtain drawn across the exit. This is 'Apollo and Marsyas' in which the god flays a satyr alive. There he goes with that flaying thing again. Apparently, Marsyas bragged that he better at music than the god of music, they held a competition and guess what? the god won so he flays his rival alive. Trust Ribera to go with that story rather than any of the other stories of Apollo. As with the painting of Saint Bartholomew above, the satyr looks out at the viewer as he screams in agony.
So there you have it, not the most pleasant of exhibitions. There are only six paintings by Ribera (plus one by a contemporary) and lots of drawings. This was the least busy exhibition at Dulwich I've been to - don't know if Tuesday lunchtimes are traditionally not very busy or if the subject matter is putting people off - and I won't be going back for a second viewing.
Imagine my relief when I left the exhibition, looked to the right and saw two small Raphael paintings almost glowing with colour by comparison. Out of the darkness and into the light.
The first room of the exhibition features two large paintings of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' painted almost 20 years apart (1628 and 1644). There are quite a few renditions of St Bartholomew as you wander through the exhibition, along with paintings and drawings of other saints at the moment of their agony, such as St Peter and St Sebastian. That's the theme of this exhibition - the moments of pain and agony felt by the early Christian martyrs and others. The signs tell us that 'Ribera was primarily concerned with exploring the contorted and restrained male body' and that the Church wanted art to 'inspire piety by arousing strong emotions'. It does that all right.
The later painting of St Bartholomew being flayed alive because he destroyed the images of pagan gods is the one that really captured my attention since the saint looks out of the painting with a piercing direct gaze - would you go through this for your god?
The next room took me back a few years to when I saw the main painting in an exhibition at Musee Jacquemart-Andre in Paris. Titled simply 'Saint Bartholomew' (1612) I wrongly thought the old man was the saint (the labels at the exhibition were in French) but the old man with the knife is holding the flayed skin of the saint. It's quite stark really. I didn't like this painting when I first saw it and I don't like it now. The background is a bit intriguing and 'modern' though.
This is where the drawings take over the exhibition, lots of drawings - and they're really good - where the artist tries out different positions of the subject matter for what will probably become paintings, tries to capture different body shapes for later use and so on. A few of the drawings capture physical illnesses and others capture torture and punishment. Not many are very pleasant viewing, especially when he he depicts the results of torture, such as a drawing of a man strung up by his arms defecating because the pain means he can't control his bowels. Not very pleasant stuff. I can only think that Ribera watched it happening so that we don't have to.
One of the drawings that really caught my eye was the 'Crucifixion of Saint Peter' from the early 1640s in ink (brush and pen). Look at that contorted body of an old man as he's man-handled onto an inverted cross. But also look at the two men handling him, the effort that's going into crucifying him, with a third pulling on a rope. A lot of effort is going into killing and humiliating an old man. There's a similar drawing hing close by of the same scene but with the cross at a more manageable angle.
The labels refer to Riber using real models for his works and I can well believe it. Some of his drawings look as if they're him trying to work out the best composition for a painting and the bodies and faces in the paintings look like real people. That's you and me in those paintings, warts and all.
Ribera also tried his hand at print making to be able to more easily spread his art and skill and, hopefully, get more commissions. There's a very detailed print of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' from 1624 (I told you he kept cropping up as a favourite subject) which shows the skin being flayed from his arm while bound to a tree. Leaving the subject matter to one side, it's a great little print with loads of detail but I have to wonder why anyone would want this in their collection.
So there you have it, flayings, hangings, torture, executions and all sorts of nastiness going on, all captured on the canvas or on paper by Ribera. One of the labels in the exhibition assumes that Ribera saw someone burned at the stake because of a drawing on that happening and his name prominently saying 'Ribera was here' across the bottom. Um, OK.
The final, large painting has a room to itself and is kept dark with a curtain drawn across the exit. This is 'Apollo and Marsyas' in which the god flays a satyr alive. There he goes with that flaying thing again. Apparently, Marsyas bragged that he better at music than the god of music, they held a competition and guess what? the god won so he flays his rival alive. Trust Ribera to go with that story rather than any of the other stories of Apollo. As with the painting of Saint Bartholomew above, the satyr looks out at the viewer as he screams in agony.
So there you have it, not the most pleasant of exhibitions. There are only six paintings by Ribera (plus one by a contemporary) and lots of drawings. This was the least busy exhibition at Dulwich I've been to - don't know if Tuesday lunchtimes are traditionally not very busy or if the subject matter is putting people off - and I won't be going back for a second viewing.
Imagine my relief when I left the exhibition, looked to the right and saw two small Raphael paintings almost glowing with colour by comparison. Out of the darkness and into the light.
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