Showing posts with label Venice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Venice. Show all posts

Saturday, 7 May 2022

'Carlo Crivelli: Shadows on the Sky' at the Ikon Gallery, Birmingham

Carlo Crivelli isn't one of the big names of the renaissance and he rarely gets mentioned but I've long been fascinated by his paintings in the National Gallery in London. The National Gallery has a good selection of his works in the collection and I would've thought if anywhere held an exhibition about Crivelli it would be there since it has so many of his works. Instead, the National Gallery is supporting the Ikon Gallery to hold the exhibition and has loaned four paintings to it, including two from its storage that I've never seen on the walls of the National Gallery before. 

The first thing I noticed on going into the exhibition is that it's in a big white room with a divider in the middle, acres of white walls. I'm used to seeing Crivelli hung on the richly coloured walls of the National Gallery, not in all this whiteness. The paintings are very spread out which emphasises the plainness of the walls but it also helps to focus on the paintings themselves. Crivelli's paintings are always packed with details so we have the colourful, detailed paintings against the stark, plain white of the walls. An interesting experiment. 

The first few paintings you come to are relatively small and one of my favourites was the painting of Mary Magdalene from around 1491-94. The figure of the Magdalene is set in a niche, almost as if she was a statue, holding a jar of oil, her symbol since she washed Christ's feet. Her hair cascades freely down her back and she holds her cloak out of the way of her feet. And then we see one of Crivelli's trademarks, her foot slightly over the edge of the ground she stands on - he does this time again using feet or random fruit or vegetables, his little trick to emphasise the three dimensionality he was seeking. To add more interest he's painted the wall of the niche as cracked and crumbling, which probably represents something to him and whoever commissioned the painting. 

On the next wall is a gorgeous, small Virgin and Child from around 1480 in a lovely tabernacle style frame. And it is gorgeous with the swags of hanging fruit behind the Virgin's head (another Crivelli trademark) and the delicate robe she wears. Then you see the Child's face. His hair hangs in ringlets and he's clutching what looks like an apple. In the background on the left is a lush forest but, on the right, is a dead landscape and a single dead tree. There's a lot going on in this little painting with life and death going on in the background, the lushness of the fruit, the Virgin as queen of heaven in her decorated golden robe... but what's going on with the Child? Is the apple meant to be the fruit from the tree of knowledge and he's clutching original sin to himself, perhaps hinting that he'll free us from sin through his own life and death? There's a lot to consider here.

One of my favourites in the exhibition was the large Virgin and Child from 1482 on loan from the Vatican. The painting was recently restored by the Vatican and it looks gorgeous. The swag of fruit across the top (with rather over-sized grapes) and the Virgin's robe spilling over the edge of the plinth her throne sits on cover Crivelli's trademarks, then there's the delicate cloth of gold behind the throne and, of course, the detail and richness of the Virgin's robe. The Christ is a toddler now with a rather ornate hair style, standing in his mother's lap and, once again, holding the apple. His green tunic reflects the colours in his mother's robe.

And then you notice the tiny figure kneeling at the Virgin's feet. The figures' robe is a Franciscan habit but who is he? An image of St Francis? or perhaps he's the donor of this painting? It was quite common to include a small image of the donor in the painting earlier in the century but that was an old fashioned conceit by the time this was painted so there must be a reason for including him. 

The painting that provides the title for the exhibition is a painting of another Franciscan and this is 'The Vision of Blessed Gabriele' from around 1489 and on loan from the National Gallery. I don't know who Gabriele was but it's quite a striking painting. He's kneeling in prayer in a rural setting with a vision of the Virgin and Child high in the sky. As ever with Crivelli, it's the details I always look for: his wooden sandals are off, the detail of the rope around his waist, a bible is open on the ground, the pond with a duck and another bird, the people on the road in the distance, the flock of birds in the sky, all the tiny angels in the vision and is that a cave behind him? He has the spikey halo of one of the blessed.

Another painting on loan from the National Gallery is the very large 'The Annunciation with Saint Emidius' from 1486. Most paintings of the annunciation focus solely on the Virgin and on Gabriel, but this is more like a cityscape with the annunciation right up front but look at all the activity in the background. It's odd having the saint with his bishop's mitre and holding an image of the church named for him alongside Gabriel as the beam of light from God's hand streaks down to the Virgin (through a handy gap in the wall, you'll notice).

What are all those people doing in the background of what is normally a private scene? I suppose it would be odd to have an empty cityscape and they certainly help with the perspective, getting smaller the further away they are. The painting might not have a swag of fruit at the top but it does have a vegetable sticking out over the ledge at the bottom. The whole city is very ornate with every surface covered in details and even the sky has drifts of clouds and a flock of doves. It's an incredible painting.


There are nine Crivelli paintings on show in total with loans from the National Gallery, the Vatican, the V&A, the Wallace Collection and the Gemaldegalerie in Berlin. There's also a small 'installation' by Susan Collis - I'm not sure why but I was there for the Crivellis. It's strange that this is the first exhibition of Crivelli's work in the UK - I wonder why he's overlooked? Maybe he needs some high profile fans to bring more attention to his works. I'm very pleased I went to see this exhibition and it seems to be doing well given the number of people who were there with me on a Wednesday afternoon. The exhibition is free to enter.

Tuesday, 2 July 2019

Favourite Paintings: Titian 'The Vendramin Family'

Another of my favourite paintings is 'The Vendramin Family venerating a Relic of the True Cross' by Titian in the National Gallery. It took me many years to see this painting for the great work it really is. I must've walked past it without a second glance many times over the years but it was only when it was included in an exhibition of paintings owned by painters in 2016 that I finally looked at it properly. The painting was once owned by Van Dyck and that is why it was included in the exhibition.


The work was painted between 1540-45 and the old man in the centre is Andrea Vendramin who died in 1547 aged 66. He was a wealthy Venetian and it's thought that this family portrait was painted for his palazzo. His younger brother Gabriel is to his right in the red robe and the others are his sons. The relic they're venerating is linked to the family through an ancestor, also called Andrea, nearly 200 years earlier. Of course, I don't call him Andrea, I call him Lord Vendramin, as is proper.

This is Titian's largest family group and it's a very big painting in Room 9 in the National Gallery. It's thought that it was designed to be placed in a specific room in the Vendramin palazzo that was then changed, which would explain the odd positioning of the three boys on the left. I like the folds of the two mens' robes, the highlights, particularly on Gabriel's red robe, the fur lining and the detail of the texture of the fur. The foreshortening on Gabriel's hand stretching out to the viewer is quite incredible as he reaches out to viewers (presumably family members, friends and colleagues who might have access to the palazzo), almost inviting us to join in the veneration.

Gabriel looks up at the sacred relic but Lord Vendramin looks out at us, looking down. I can never decide what he's thinking and what his expression means. He's old and tired and those eyes have seen a lot over the years but he's still rich and powerful and has a large family to support him. A bit condescending? Probably. I imagine him getting fed up with all the tourists looking at him and his family, the tour groups chattering away loudly and the occasional screeches from young school groups. I wonder what he'd think if he knew this painting by Titian would be seen by millions of people every year, commoners from all over the world and countries that didn't exist when he was alive? Would he mind being gawped at for all these years? Or be proud that the family name still exists because of him?


I say hello to him when I pass this painting on my way from the Sainsbury Wing into the main gallery. I hope he welcomes a familiar face now and then.