At first glance, you would expect Christian Coigny’s photographs to come from a bygone era of black and white glamour and simple sophistication. Contoured shadows, tight compositions, and crisp lighting gives his photography both a timelessness and the nostalgic feel of long-lost summer vacations. I am enamored of his still-lifes, especially in the way he handles napkin folds and petals, as they have a certain painterly and otherworldly quality about them.

I have done a good deal of skying.

— John Constable

Painting clouds may seem like an quaint and old-fashioned business, but for a handful of 19th century artists, it was a powerful means of expression that explored new artistic territory. In a time when painting was thought of in terms of established schools and traditions that emphasized literal associations, the purely aesthetic merit of landscape was questionable. Clouds gave the use of paint itself new meaning, as their painters paved the way for a more modern artistic perspective.

Constable was ardent in his beliefs when it came to painting, but he expressed them in a more subtle manner than may be apparent from first inspection. Although he had to please a market that was enamored of historic and mythological references, he continued to advocate critical attention to nature as a primary source of inspiration. He immersed himself in the delicate nuances of color and light, and sought to portray them in the most authentic way possible. He was one of the first painters who produced oil sketches, such as the one pictured, from direct observation, creating a body of work that was devoted solely to the study of clouds. His utmost reverence for nature is manifested in each delicate and conscious brushstroke.

Turner, on the other hand, used the ambiguity of cloud formations to express his own wild imagination. Although he did paint preliminary studies such as Heavy Dark Clouds where his understanding of their realistic depiction is apparent, he is best known for his fierce layers of thick paint. In works such as Stormy Sea with Blazing Wreck, the sky is seemingly indistinguishable from the sea, as the intense emotion of the scene transcends into a more abstract representation.

Skating was a national pastime in 17th century Netherlands, and people of all classes took advantage of the frozen city and village streets. During this Golden Age of Dutch painting, landscapes were becoming increasingly popular, as scenes from everyday life with nature as an integral element were developed as serious subjects. Panoramic, birds-eye view winter landscapes depicted countless tiny figures on the ice, each with their own gestures and personalities. This allowed for the artist to capture a snapshot of a typical winter’s day, and devote particular attention to wispy clouds and barren tree branches.

Perhaps the most iconic image Scottish painting is The Skating Minister by Henry Raeburn, which shows the sharply outlined silhouette of Reverend Robert Walker. As a member of the Edinburgh Skating Society, he would spend afternoons on the frozen lochs in an elegant black ensemble. Imagine such a character beside you the next time you’re on an ice rink.

Still Life with Flowers in a Wan-Li vase by Ambrosius Bosschaert is a classic example of the subtle yet evocative effect of Dutch still-life painting, as the meticulous brushstrokes reveal layers of meaning pertinent to the time. Bosschaert was a respectable floral painter and art dealer, whose work was usually done in oil on small copper plates. This particular work is done with a degree of perfection that seems staged and out of reach, possibly referring to the exorbitant price tag of this bouquet and Chinese vase. During this time, tulips sold for than most people’s annual income, and artists both celebrated and reproached this kind of transient luxury.

The tulip craze was as ephemeral as the flower itself, and perhaps paintings such as Still Life with Flowers by Hans Bollognier serve as a reminder us of the price of such extravagance. The whole structure of the bouquet, as the vase overflows with the most expensive flowers only to be surrounded by tiny creatures symbolizing decay, seems to mirror the decline of the trade itself. These vanitas paintings could include more direct elements such as skulls, or simply a drooping flower, but they all had a poignant message behind seemingly quiet arrangements.

If you’ve ever watched HBO’s epic series Rome, you know that glimpses of Octavian’s quietly psychopathic nature were surfacing during the second season. In history, Octavian claimed power after Caesar’s will named him as his heir. Octavian became Augustus, and his reign is known as one of the most peaceful in Roman history. However, some scholars have questioned previous sources that depict Augustus as a benevolent and just ruler, claiming that the sources that have survived must be examined closely for other implications.

According to the great 20th century scholar Sir Ronald Syme, Augustus achieved complete power through propagandistic tactics that involved every aspect and every player in society as part of his agenda. He conceived a highly crafted image of a social structure, upheld by a network of associations with all classes, that would allow him total personal control under the guise of a republic. In order to achieve a grasp of this scope, he built up a base of support from the equites by theoretically allowing military mobility, manipulated public opinion by promoting nationalistic sentiment, and suppressed his opposition. Syme largely draws these conclusions from concrete evidence of Augustus’ relationships with other powerful figures of the time, because these interactions provide information about his intentions through their role in the government, their reputation, and their disagreements. It was the subtlety of his methods of achieving absolute power, and their remarkable similarity to 20th century regimes that prompted Syme to unravel his identity as a fascist dictator.

Part of the propaganda system was the development of a certain style of art and architecture that reflected Augustus’ intentions. The overarching premise of his rule was a return to the Roman past, which he achieved through a moral program that emphasized traditional values, and a revitalization of old Roman religion. These ideas permeated into the world of art and architecture as well, because they were one of the main ways in which he could make them clear to ordinary Roman citizens in the city and provinces. The extensive public building campaign was responsible for countless temples, the first Roman baths, and recreational areas that regular people would encounter every day. Statues and other art were done in the Classical style, as a reference to the democratic golden age of Athens and Pericles. His portraits are idealized, and were on every Roman coin so that even his hairstyles were became imitated. The key here was that he wanted to move away from the Hellenistic style that had been popular with the elites during the late republic, because it reflected a decadent aesthetic that didn’t correspond with Augustus’ moral program and one which had associations with monarchy. It is interesting to note that his private art that was only seen be the elite few was still very much in the Hellenistic style. He distinguished his rule and subconsciously instilled associations in Romans through art and architecture, perhaps because he wanted to disguise the true nature of his regime.

Igor Siwanowicz’s photography gets intimately close with creatures such as crabs, chameleons, and crested geckos, revealing the true artistry of their various forms, textures, and colors. He treats them like fashion celebrities, bringing out every feature through perfect lighting, sharpness, and composition. Every vividly green scale of a chameleon is rendered in crisp detail, the rocky face of the horned lizard resounds with an authority greater than that of many kings, and reptilian eyes reveal the intricacy of small-scale design.

Piero di Cosimo’s Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci depicts the Florentine noblewoman and mistress of one of the Medicis in the characteristic early-Renaissance style. Emulating Roman aesthetics was an integral part of the intellectual and visual Renaissance world, evident in the elaborate hairstyle and associations with Cleopatra. The intricate braiding and delicate strands of pearls was an elaboration on the already individualistic and decorative styles of Roman times. Botticelli, on the other hand, applies the same dynamic quality to his hair as he does to his flesh and flowing outlines. Nowhere is this more apparent than in his depiction of the three Graces in Primavera, where the fluidity of the gestures, folds of transparent cloth, and long locks of golden hair all create a vivid harmony.

Italian Renaissance aesthetics influenced their northern neighbors, although there is a still a distinct Flemish flavor to St. Cecilia by the circle of Ambrosius Benson. The patron saint of music looks rather reserved, as the pallor of her face and black background highlight the sumptuous red hat, ordered rows of pearls and ruffles, and perfectly formed flaxen ringlets.

Velasquez’s portrait of Maria Teresa, an infanta of Spain, reflects a restrained ambiguity that he applied to his depictions of royal personages, as the court was slowly crumbling in its own decadence. The girl’s indecipherable face is surrounded by hair that is twice the size, decorated with translucent silver fans, as the creamy brushstrokes are illuminated against a dark background.

The risque locks of Courbet’s Woman with a Parrot were more provocative than the 19th century French audience was used to, as her languished pose sinks into the folds of sheets that flow into messy strands of curls.

On the other hand, George Romney’s Portrait of Lady Elizabeth Hamilton falls into the more gentile Georgian portraiture phase of English painting. He was known for his classical references in particular, and worked with a romanticized sensibility that was popular at the time, as her hair is swept up almost carelessly to fit with her pensive expression.

There seems to be an erotic quality associated with depictions of women combing their hair, bathing, etc. across cultures and time periods that involves an idealization of the female form. The simple outlines of Kitawana Utamaro’s woodblock print Bijin Combing Her Hair is reminder of how these mass-produced prints that became so popular in the west were often depictions of famous local beauties from Edo. Titian’s Young Woman Combing her Hair is suggestive in a different way, as the blouse slightly slipping off her shoulder might indicate, revealing the particularly fleshy form that Titian was known for.

After examining more modern aspects of Japanese art to begin to understand the dynamic between western influence and native culture, looking into ikebana seemed like a good change of perspective, as it is a visual display of ideals that have been integral to the Japanese aesthetic for hundreds of years. The introduction of Buddhism is said to have sparked the development of ikebana, but it has evolved to represent a uniquely Japanese outlook that focuses on subtlety, attention to detail, and connection with nature. The complexity of the thought process involved reflects the organization of ikebana schools, each with their own philosophy and methods of teaching. Just as with Zen painting, the initial structures of temples and patronage gave rise to an art and way of thinking that was visually free from this involvement. This is significantly different from Western patterns, where a flourishing Flemish art market would have influenced intricate and realistic brushstrokes. Still lives were a comparatively late addition to the Western painting repertoire, and, even so, they were more of a representation of secular ideals than an identification with nature.

In that respect, it is difficult to think of Japanese aesthetics from a Western perspective, because while we might treat a flower arrangement or an oil painting as separate visual achievements, ikebana, for instance, has a much richer web of associations that span multiple layers of perception. There is also a perfect balance between the organic form and the control of it with a sort of effortlessness and humility that is lacking in the Western tradition in quite the same way. Appreciating the beauty of nature is a complicated affair, and perhaps the mastery of ikebana is the ability to display this appreciation in a seemingly simple and minimalist way.

Although the differences between ikebana schools vary subtly in the use of plants, composition, and intent, there seems to be a general goal to bring out the shussho, or the innate character of each plant, in every design. It is not an individual’s manipulation of the plants to fit their own vision, but rather an elaboration of qualities that are already present. It is interesting to note how this idea has followed the history of ikebana from its ancient origins to modern offshoots, and how the definition of intuitive input has changed according to the mood of the time. There might be strict rules for how certain elements have to be put together, or there might be no rules at all, but every style of arrangement is appreciated, pointing to a universality in visual thought that still has endless possible manifestations.

The pomegranate has a certain elusive allure, whether it’s the deep-red color or maze-like interior, and it has found its way into works of art throughout the centuries. Perhaps one of the earliest is Lorenzo di Credi’s Madonna and Child with a Pomegranate, and, like in many Renaissance works, it’s safe to say that the seemingly insignificant objects will have a symbolic meaning, as the pomegranate represents resurrection in this instance. The painting was done in the style of Verrocchio, the then-deceased teacher of Credi, with an attempt to draw inspiration from da Vinci, a fellow student who, comparatively, has a more subtle sense of color and realism.

Jan de Heem’s still-life is very much part of the age of northern European still-life painting, and the pomegranate here is given an unreachable level of lusciousness, as it is depicted meticulously among an equally vivid bouquet. At first glance, it might seem ready to eat, but such perfect paintings have a sense of theatricality about them, as if to remind us of the illusion of such luxury.

Courbet’s Still Life with Apples and Pomegranate seems too meek for an artist of his perspective, but the loose, mesmerizing brushstrokes give the painting Courbet’s signature effect. Chardin, on the other hand, depicts the pomegranate half open, and he shows his skill in portraying almost a reverence for the fruit.

Cezanne is on another level of perception, of course, as he is not concerned with the sensual qualities of pomegranate, but rather evokes something that goes far beyond the physical or familiar. That being said, nothing compares with a eating bowl of pomegranate seeds, and here is the easiest way to deal with such a complicated fruit: submerge it in a bowl of water, separate seeds from flesh, and all of the seeds will sink to the bottom.

See also:

Secret Underwater Pomegranate Trick

Two Luscious Recipes with Intoxicating Pomegranate Glaze!

Bulgur, Celery and Pomegranate Salad Recipe

Recipes With Pomegranate Punch

Pomegranate-glazed salmon with baby arugula salad

A pot of paint has been flung in the face of the public!

— Camille Mauclair at the first Fauvist exhibition

Here I’m supposed to mention how the Fauves were, in fact, revolutionary and high-minded artists, and provide a detailed psychological analysis of the nuanced relationship between paint and ideas in their work. After much mind-numbing, self-satisfying confusion, however, I will probably still think of their work as a pot of paint flung in my face. I most certainly mean that in the best way possible, because not only did the Fauves open up a new perspective of looking at art, but it would also be incredibly enjoyable to throw paint onto someone’s face.

So, enjoy the last of the fall colors, and experimental brushstrokes of the Fauves.