Monica D. Murgia

Where art, creativity, and fashion meet
April 23rd, 2013

The Prints of Mary Cassatt

There is a great exhibition currently on view at the New York Public Library.  It highlights the prints of famed Impressionist painter Mary Cassatt (1844-1917).  Cassatt was renown for her contributions to the Impressionist school of painting in France, but I knew every little about her efforts of printmaking.

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The Fitting by Mary Cassatt, 1891.  Color print with drypoint and aquatint.

Cassatt was from Pennsylvania, and studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts as a teenager.  Art schools were much different then.  Females were not allowed to draw the nude models in classes.  They instead were instructed to draw from mannequins and plaster casts.  In 1866, Cassatt moves to Paris to further her studies.

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She starts showing her work at the official Paris Salon, but was rejected in 1875.  This is the same year that she accepts an invitation from Edgar Degas to join the Impressionist group.

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The Coiffure by Mary Cassatt, 1891.  Image courtesy of NYPL.

I immediately noticed how much Cassatt’s prints looked like Japanese woodblock prints from the era.  The show went on to talk about how many of Cassatt’s early prints were influenced by the influx of Japanese art  that flooded Paris in the late 19th Century.  Many of her compositions mimic traditional Japanese art: the placement of the subject, the use of space, and the idea of capturing moments of daily life.

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Takashima Ohisa Using Two Mirrors to Observe Her Coiffure by Kitagawa Utamaro, c. 1795.  Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  

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Another observation that interested me was the representation of patterns on textiles and other decorative objects.  Patterns seemed to jump out at me: the  floral print on the carpet, the painted  pitcher, the stripes on the subject’s dress.

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I also enjoyed seeing several prints of with the same composition, but that had different layers of plates.  This was because Cassatt was experimenting with reworking her copper plates and perhaps which colors of acquatint  she would use.

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Afternoon Tea Party by Mary Cassatt, 1891.  Image courtesy of NYPL.

Seeing the various stages of Cassatt’s process is so interesting.  I love seeing work like this, because it allows you into the artist’s mind.  You can see how she dealt with challenges in depicting the image as it was in her mind.  Maybe she wanted more depth in the background, or the cups to be a darker blue.  It reminded me of the exhibition on Matisse – where you started to see how the artist revisited a composition again and again to perfect it.

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Again, you can see this evolution in The Letter.  One has a very plain background, while the other focuses on the pattern of the wallpaper.

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The Letter by Mary Cassatt, 1891.  Image courtesy of NYPL.

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If you can’t make it to the show, the exhibition catalog is available online.

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Mother’s Kiss by Mary Cassatt, 1891.  Image courtesy of NYPL.

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March 25th, 2013

Monet & Etretat

Yesterday, I wrote a post about a vintage illustrated dictionary I found.  The little drawings pouring out from each page really captivated me.  I spent a few hours making my own drawings based on the illustrations in the book.  One, in particular, reminded me so much of paintings by Claude Monet (1840-1926).  The illustration of a bluff made me think of Monet’s series depicting the coastline of Etretat.
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Etretat is a small farming and fishing town near in the Normandy region of France.  It attracts tourist far and wide for the naturally formed bluffs and cliff formations.  According to the Musee d’Orsey, Monet first visited this area in the winter of 1868 and returned every year between 1883-1886.  Monet made countless paintings of this coastline, each showing a different time of day or weather pattern.
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Etretat in the Rain by Claude Monet, 1886.
I love this series of paintings.  When I find a really special place, I take endless photographs and make drawings and paintings of what I observe.  There is a small trail in the woods near my home that is really special to me.  This is what I base a lot of my own paintings off of, as well as a large portion of my Instagram feed.  Since this type of technology wasn’t available at the time, Monet had to paint rapidly to capture the ambient light and atmosphere.
Cliffs at Etretat (1886) - Claude Monet - Fine Arts - Moscow Musts
If you’ve ever painted or drawn landscapes outdoors, you know how tricky it is to capture the moment.  The wind blows, a cloud passes by – whatever may happen, the environment constantly changes.  The lighting may be different.  Leaves will scatter about.  People may enter the area.  The scene is in a constant state of flux.  If you sit outside and observe the same spot carefully for 15 minutes, you’ll see how rapidly that little spot will change.
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Etretat, La Porte d’Aval – Boats Leaving the Harbor by Claude Monet, 1885. Image courtesy of Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon via Wikimedia Commons.
If you observe the same place at different times of day over a period of time, you’ll start to notice so much more.  It’s a really extraordinary thing to see the environment change from afternoon to sunset.
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 Soleil Couchant à Etretat by Claude Monet,  1883.  Image courtesy of El Museo de Hipatia.
Each sunset is unique and different.  Look at the variation between these paintings.
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Etretat at the End of the Day, Claude Monet.  Image courtesy of Poul Webb.
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Cliffs at Eretat by Claude Monet, 1886. Image courtesy of The Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow.
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Sunset at Etretat by Claude Monet, 1883.
Weather patterns change the lighting and colors the eye perceives.  Here is Eretat during a particularly bad storm.  Look at how dark and dreary it is.  You can almost feel harsh winds whipping around you.
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Rough Sea at Etretat by Claude Monet, 1868.  Image courtesy of Wikipaintings.
Monet painted another storm at Eretat, but this one seems less alarming.  The sea seems to be more frenetic and turbulent.  The brushstrokes are more pronounced, which gives the sea a really harsh feeling.
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Agitated Sea at Etretat by Claude Monet, 1883. Image courtesy of Musée des Beaux-Arts, Lyon, via Wikimedia Commons.
And then, you can always observe the same place from a different vantage point.  Here is another storm, from the other side of the bluff.  Can you see the lone seagull?
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Amont Cliff with Rough Weather by Claude Monet, c. 1886.

 

 Eretat is a really beautiful place, and I hope to make it there some day.  Until then, I’ll have to enjoy these lovely paintings by Monet.
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The Cliffs at Etretat by Claude Monet, 1885. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

 

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February 5th, 2013

Menswear: Shoes, 1888

Saturday was a really fun day.  I spent a few hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my mom.  It was her first time there, so I had to show her around.  I’m lucky enough to know the Impressionist galleries pretty well.  I visit them almost every time I’m there.  (Second floor, Nineteenth Century European art!)

She absolutely loved it.  We dashed about, looking at different things, only to meet in front of paintings we mutually admired.  Like mother, like daughter I guess would sum the experience up, because we met up in front of this painting by Van Gogh:

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Shoes, 1888.  It’s a beautiful painting. Dazzling hues, strong brushwork, impasto layers of paint,  interesting composition.  We talked about this only after a good laugh- we love paintings of fashion.  We sort of marveled at how the shoes were timeless.  They could still be fashionable today, and here they were in a painting from 1888.  We wondered is they were Van Gogh’s own, or maybe they belonged to his friend and fellow painter Cezanne.

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My mom was really insistent that they looked like a pair of Vans. She probably made this connection because the soles of the shoes in the painting look white.  I wasn’t really convinced on this comparison.   To me, the shoes seemed like they were made of really nice leather.  Van Gogh took a lot of artistic liberty with selecting the color of the paint, so I guess everyone sees something different.  I imagined a soft, buttery leather, with an oval shaped toe cap.

We had lunch downstairs in the cafeteria, and I spotted these shoes on a passerby:

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Making these kinds of connections between fashion and art is practically what I live for.  Of course I was beside myself with excitement, and shouted “I love your shoes!”.  They were practically right out of my imagination of what I thought Van Gogh’s painting was trying to represent.  (These shoes, of course, have a few more eyelets than the painting.)

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The wearer almost escaped without further interrogation.  I sat and looked at the rest of my food, and the thought of not know more about the shoes made me lose my appetite.  So I ran after the gentleman to find out more about the brand.  Ian was kind enough to fill me in.  The shoes are by Clae, an Los Angeles based company.  Founded in the 1990s, the shoes are a take on merging casual silhouettes with the comfort of an athletic shoe.  Designer Sung Choi coined a term for this concept: “athleisure”.

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They certainly are perfect for a Saturday walking around Manhattan.  The style is classic and refined.  But they certainly look comfortable enough to trek around the city.  Definitely an updated take on what Van Gogh was wearing back in 1888!

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January 14th, 2013

The Studio Boat

One of the reasons I like beautiful things is that it changes my perspective.  Looking at art always enhances my mood.  When I find a painting I really like, I feel a sense of awe.  I feel humbled by another person’s creativity and ability to make me respond to their way of seeing the world.

Fashion also makes me feel the same way.  When I find a beautiful crafted garment or accessory, it’s almost like falling in love.  Not that I’m in love with the physical object, but the experience of beauty.  I sort of dismissed myself as a hedonist.  How else could I explain it?  Even as I write this, I’ll admit it sounds sort of ridiculous.

 

The Studio Boat by Claude Monet, 1876.  Image courtesy of the Barnes Foundation.

Sometimes, I have trouble sleeping.  If I can’t distract myself in some way, I’ll surely stay awake all night.  (That vicious cycle of trying to sleep, only to become aware of how completely awake you are drives me insane.) When I can’t sleep, I try to look at images that will be soothing.

As you might have guessed, I woke up in the middle of the night.  I couldn’t go back to sleep.  I tossed.  I turned.  I tried desperately to become unconscious again.  It became really clear that I wouldn’t fall asleep again when I started thinking.  Then, the worst part – I started to worry.  Luckily, somewhere between idle thoughts of things beyond my control, I thought about Claude Monet’s Studio Boat.

 

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The Studio Boat by Claude Monet, 1874.

 

Back in December, I paid my first visit to the Barnes Foundation.  The Studio Boat was my favorite painting.  I stood in front of it for a long time.  I admired the rich blue and green hues that undulated through the canvas.  The sharp dashes of fuchsia and purple mimicked wild grasses and flowering trees.  The whole composition reminded me of landscapes near my home.  The careful attention to detail, the dreamy atmosphere, the color palette -  the painting made me feel that burst of love.  Why it came to my mind, I cannot say.  But I looked it up online, instantly felt better.

 

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The Studio Boat on the Seine by Claude Monet, 1875.

 

My worry was replaced with curiosity.  Why does looking at beautiful things make me feel this way?  Am I completely alone in this experience?  I’m sort of embarrassed to confess the way I feel so publicly, but maybe I’m not alone.  (Maybe?)

It turns out I may not be.  The University College of London recently conducted a study that proved looking at artwork triggers pleasure responses in the brain.  Here are their findings:

During the study, participants underwent brain scans while eyeballing paintings by artists such as Monet, Rembrandt, and Leonardo da Vinci. When they saw something they liked, blood flow in certain parts of the brain increased by about 10 percent – the equivalent of gazing at a loved one, according to the researchers. (Source)

The equivalent of gazing at a loved one?  That’s pretty impressive. It certainly explains my fascination with art and fashion.  It’s also nice to know other people have a similar reaction to beauty.

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July 26th, 2012

William Merritt Chase

When people ask me what I went to school for, they are surprised by how much I know about art history.  Studying fashion requires consulting many primary sources, like paintings, books, and magazines since garments often do not survive the test of time.  Clothing and accessories are fragile. Clothing was not so readily available until after the Industrial Revolution, so many garments were worn and altered by the owners until they fell apart or were outmoded.
Written descriptions, paintings, and photographs are very important to studying fashion history. In fact, many paintings can be accurately dated by the clothing silhouette, accessories, and hairstyles that the subjects wear.  But it’s a real treat when a garment survives that can be linked to paintings from the time period.
One of my favorite portrait artists in William Merritt Chase (1849-1916).  He created magical paintings of women from the 1880s-1910s that captured what was worn.  Many of Chase’s portraits also give important hints to how the clothing affected posture and movement.  His subjects all appear exceedingly fashionable, too!  I couldn’t help but notice that the women seem to have been dressed in the best couture, like Charles Frederick Worth.
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In the Studio Corner by William Merritt Chase, c. 1881.  Oil on canvas.  Image courtesy of wikipaintings.org
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Tea gown by Charles Frederick Worth, c. 1880.  Image courtesy of http://metmuseum.org
Chase was born in Indiana, and later moved to New York to paint.  He was always willing to grow as an artist, and used different elements from painting styles, like Tonalism (dark or neutral hues used to paint the atmosphere or mist), Impressionism (visible brush strokes, depiction of light and its changing qualities), and Realism (depicting the subject exactly as it is).  His willingness to learn and adapt made him a revered teacher.
What I think made him an interesting painter, aside from sheer skill, was his ability to render the details of clothing.  Garments from this time period are in many museum collections.  The similarities between Chase’s portraits and the surviving garments are very strong.  Take a look:
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Portrait of a Lady in Pink by William Merritt Chase, c. 1888.
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Evening gown by J.P.  Worth, c. 1900.  Image courtesy of http://metmuseum.org
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Kate Freemen Clack by William Merritt Chase, c. 1902.  Image courtesy of bjws.blogspot.com
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Advertisment for shirtwaists, c. 1901.
1888c The Blue Kimono (Girl in Blue Kimono) oil on canvas 145 x 112 cm
The Blue Kimono by William Merritt Chase, c. 1888.  Oil on canvas.  Image courtesy of
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Woman’s Kimono Dressing Gown with Sash, late 19th- early 20th century.  Image courtesy of http://collectionsonline.lacma.org
 
1889c Spring Flowers (Peonies) pastel on paper 122 x 122 cm
Spring Flowers by William Merritt Chase, c. 1889.  Pastel on paper.  Image courtesy of http://poulwebb.blogspot.com
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Kimono, c.1800-1940.  Image courtesy of http://metmuseum.org
1890 Girl in a Japanese Costume oil 63 x 41 cm
Girl in a Japanese Costume by William Merritt Chase, c. 1890.  Oil on canvas.  Image courtesy of http://poulwebb.blogspot.com
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Kimono dressing gown by Iida Takashimaya, 1906.  Image courtesy of http://www.kci.or.jp
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I Think I am Ready Now by William Merritt Chase, c. 1883.  Oil on canvas.  Image courtesy of askart.com
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 Dress by Mme. Hardy, c. 1877.  Image courtesy of http://fashionmuseum.fitnyc.edu

 

GHTime Code(s): nc 

May 18th, 2011

Art in the Streets

Last Sunday, I went to the graffiti exhibit, Art in the Street, at MoCA.  If you’ve been to my blog before, you’ll know how much I love graffiti (click here for older posts).   Much to my delight, it seemed that others were appreciating graffiti as much as I was.  My initial euphoria of seeing a museum space covered in graffiti grew as I went from room to room.  What a radical departure from typical exhibitions.  No frames.  No paint that is neatly confined to a prefabricated canvas.  Art had taken over the gallery, the walls – even the bathrooms.

 

Everywhere I looked, I could see people having a graffiti-educed epiphany: art as we know it has changed shape, yet again.  Art and fashion have a funny way of changing on us.  Since both are  modes of self-expression, they change frequently to adapt to the flux of our physical and emotional landscapes.

 

Photo of graffiti-educed epiphany

A large part of why graffiti is becoming accepted as art is our obsession with “the new“.  Being modern – attaining the new – has become the the sole value of many cultures.  Because of this focus, we are attracted to that which is fleeting.  Beauty lies in the transient experience.  Graffiti is here today, only to be whitewashed tomorrow.  We are grateful to experience its message and beauty, and sad to see it go.

 

 

There are still those that resist the change.  Graffiti just doesn’t seem to fit into their definition of art.  It just goes against tradition too much.  This resistance is amusing to me.  It reminds me so much of the early Impressionist artists.  Now worth millions, Impressionist art battled against the establishment.  They were tired of replicating the ideals of beauty recognized by the great art schools in Paris.  Charles Baudelaire commented about this shift in aesthetics:

It is true that the great tradition is lost, and that the new one is not yet established.  But what was the great tradition, if not the habitiual idealization of ancient life  . . .  Since all centuries and all peoples have their own forms of beauty, so inevitably we have ours  . . .

It’s funny to think that Baudelaire said this in the 1860s . . .

And then I wonder: is graffiti a way of reclaiming our cultural rights to the arts?  Public funding for the arts has decreased dramatically across the globe.  The recession, the “new economy”- call it what you will – but when times are tough and budget cuts are in order, the arts are usually the first on the chopping block.  Schools are focused on making students cubical workers, not entrepreneurs or problem-solvers.   Curricula are focused measuring learning outcomes that are outdated and praise regurgitation of information.  Creativity, innovation, and critical thinking are lost somewhere between the glossy brochures and graduation for most schools.  I believe this is attributed to a fixation on measuring learning.  Most schools measure learning by tests.  This creates droves of students that become good test-takers, not lifelong learners.

The architect Viollet-le-Duc gave an appraisale of the 19th century school system, that churned out replica-makers instead of free-thinking artists.  It could be just as applicable today:

The young artist enters the Ecole, he gets medals . . . but at what price?  Upon condition of keeping precisely and without any deviation within the limits imposed by the corporation of professors, of following the beaten track submissively, of having only exactly the ideas permitted by the corporation and above all of not indicating the presumption of having any of his own . . . We observe besides that the student body naturally includes more mediocrities than talented people, that, the majority always itself on the side of routine, there is no ridicule sufficient for the person who shows some inclination towards originality.  [E. Viollet-le-Duc.  "L'Enseignement des arts."  Gazette des beaux-arts (June, 1862).  Cited in Diane Kelder's The Great Book of French Impressionism.]

 

 

 

Obsession with the new, reclaiming our rights to art, a statement against  traditional education . . . graffiti can be all of those and more.  Add to the discussion by posingt a comment.

 


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