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Tag Archives: oil on canvas

Object of the Month: May 2025

Macbeth Encounters the Three Witches from Macbeth

Oil on Canvas, signed lower left

Edward Train

English, 1801-1866

During the Victorian era landscape painting became a major branch of English art, and a burgeoning preference for the genre can be seen in the Royal Academy’s mid-century exhibitions. This popularity was due in part to the wide-ranging approach of English artists to the genre. In J.M.W. Turner’s romantic imagery, John Constable’s naturalistic scenes, and William Holman Hunt’s meticulously rendered flora and fauna, Victorians perceived anew the beauty, grandeur, and stunning diversity of the natural world. Through these artists, viewers also discerned that a landscape may be far more than an appealing backdrop.

In this work inspired by Act 1, scene 3 of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the landscape carries the storytelling power of the scene. The chiaroscuro, colors, swirling lines, and frenetic brushwork all “speak.” In a very real sense, Train’s landscape functions as a personified antagonist in his visual narrative.

Macbeth and Banquo, two victorious warriors, arrive upon a wind-swept heath “at set of sun.” There, three witches give them seemingly encouraging news: Macbeth is informed that he will not only become Thane of Cawdor but also “king hereafter.” Likewise, Banquo is told that his progeny will one day rule. Both men are initially suspicious of the hags’ prophecies—until an entourage arrives to confirm that King Duncan has indeed named Macbeth Thane of Cawdor. With this news Macbeth begins to toy with not only embracing but also hastening the witches’ prophecies.

Banquo warns his friend:
. . .Oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray ’s
In deepest consequence.
Act 1, scene 3, ll. 124-128

However, the “fair tidings” have already set alight Macbeth’s ambition, kindling the “horrible imaginings” that foreshadow his descent into psychological and spiritual darkness. Before days end, Macbeth (goaded by his equally ambitious wife) will murder the rightful king.

Notice how Train uses atmospheric perspective to create a foreboding sky. His loose brushwork and subtle color blending create an illusion that the lowering storm clouds hovering over the witches are fast moving toward the blood red sun. Soon, what remains of the light will be “put out,” leaving the characters in darkness. The jagged terrain further accentuates Macbeth’s and Banquo’s precarious position. The implied diagonal line connecting these warriors to the witches further heightens the suspense. Notice that the witches on the left look down on Macbeth and Banquo who are “center stage.” This slightly elevated positioning insinuates their psychic dominance. In addition, the shadowy entourage approaching in the distance foreshadows that the witches’ first prophecy will soon be fulfilled, setting in motion the “horrible imaginings” spawned by Macbeth’s musings.

Although scholars continue to debate whether Shakespeare was a Christian, most agree that the “worlds” he creates reflect a clear understanding of the moral law and the human condition. In Shakespeare’s dramas a disregard for the divine order results not only in human suffering (turbulence among men) but also in upheaval in the natural world (tempestuousness in nature). It is not by chance, therefore, that Macbeth’s temptation takes place upon a storm-tossed heath. Nor is it surprising that following the murder of King Duncan raging storms spread across the land, daylight is entombed in darkness, and Duncan’s “beauteous and swift horses have turned wild, broken their stalls, and devoured one another.”

Shakespearean scholar David Bevington says that “Macbeth is in some ways Shakespeare’s most unsettling tragedy, because it invites the intense examination of the heart of a man who is well-intentioned in most ways but who discovers that he cannot resist the temptation to achieve power at any cost.”

One final intriguing detail is the existence of a similar work by Train titled Landscape with Three Mythological Women Stopping the Roman’s Army’s Advance. This work is dated in 1865 a year before the artist’s death. Although the painting has the same setting as M&G’s Macbeth, it is from a different vantage point. Perhaps Train was exploring how vantage point might alter mood. In any case, the 1865 landscape is less poignant and evocative in its narrative power.

 

Donnalynn Hess, Director of Education and Bella Vita Sanders, Research Intern

 

Bibliography

The Complete Works of Shakespeare, David Bevington

Victorian Painting, Christopher Wood

 

 

Published in 2025

Madonna and Child: Anthony van Dyck

Although Anthony van Dyck died in the prime of life, he left behind a surprisingly prolific body of work.

The Brothers of Joseph: Francisco Collantes

Baroque Spanish artist Francisco Collantes relies on his considerable skill as a landscape painter to enhance the storytelling power of this Biblical narrative from Genesis 37.

Bonifazio Veronese

Sacred Conversation

Bonifazio de’ Pitati, called Bonifazio Veronese

Below the image, click play to listen.

 

Preparing to Depart for Canaan: Leandro Bassano, called Leandro da Ponte

This vibrant painting depicting Abraham and his family’s departure for Canaan features many of the details that the Bassano family were skilled in painting.

Esau and Jacob Presented to Isaac

Esau and Jacob Presented to Isaac

Benjamin West, P.R.A.

Below the image, click play to listen.

 

You can learn more about the entire series by West and M&G’s significant collection from the series HERE.

The Annunciation: Pieter Fransz. de Grebber

In this lovely Annunciation Dutch Golden Age artist, Pieter Fransz. de Grebber, follows the standard imagery–except for two details.

Christ and the Samaritan Woman

Christ and the Samaritan Woman

Bernardo Strozzi

Below the image, click play to listen.

 

Object of the Month: November 2024

The Return from the Flight into Egypt

Oil on canvas, c. 1712

Giuseppe Bartolomeo Chiari

Roman, 1654-1727

Rome was for centuries the epicenter of culture, art, and religion. At the time of Giuseppe Chiari’s birth, it was also “the scene of a lively debate with a constantly varying interplay of influences, trends, fashions, specialized treatises, and, of course, great masterpieces” (Zuffi, p. 64). At the center of this debate were three artistic movements that Zuffi notes “succeeded one another in a sort of ideal relay race of artistic styles.” The stark naturalism of Caravaggio, the elegant classicism of Annibale Carracci, and the dramatic baroque sculptures and architecture of Gian Lorenzo Bernini would all play a part in making 17th-century Rome—well, Rome!

As president of the Roman Academy Carlo Maratta was keenly aware of these lively debates. Considered one of the most important painters in the latter half of the 17th century, he was much admired for his beautiful frescos and stunning portraits. Although his work evidenced a clear admiration for the classical tradition, several of his paintings also integrated elements of Caravaggio’s vigorous style. David Steel points out that Maratta often “managed to steer a middle course between these two dominant and often contrary trends of baroque painting” (Steel, p. 88).

Maratta was at the summit of his career in 1666 when 12-year-old Giuseppe Chiari entered the great master’s studio. Chiari soon became a star pupil. Over the years, his profound respect for Maratta’s tutelage would not only shape his artistic development but also ensure his future success in a highly competitive environment. When Maratta died in 1713, Chiari took up Maratta’s mantle and became the dominant Roman artist.

Like Maratta, Chiari broadened his appeal by becoming an astute observer and deft practitioner of integrating stylistic trends. Kathrine and William Wallace highlight this skill in their comparative analysis of Chiari’s Tedallini altarpiece with Caravaggio’s Madonna dei Pellegrini [figs. 1 and 2]:

“The statuesque pose of Chiari’s Madonna, the unusually high step on which she stands, the elongated form of the Christ child framed by a white swaddling cloth, and the overall right-triangular composition recall Caravaggio’s Madonna dei Pellegrini. Yet the suggestion is subtle: Chiari has reversed the composition, naturalized the pose of the Virgin, and substituted the more palatable, well-dressed saints for the dirty feet and common character of Caravaggio’s pilgrims. Although inspired by Caravaggio, Chiari’s altarpiece remains distinctly his own. Chiari’s Madonna looks like a person of warm flesh and blood rather than the marmoreal statue of Caravaggio’s Madonna; Christ is an attractive child of sweet disposition as opposed to the enormous and ungainly figure depicted by the older master. Instead of the muted and earthy colors of the Madonna dei Pellegrini, Chiari’s bright hues are immediately pleasing and a welcome contrast to the comparatively dark paintings found on so many Roman altars” (p. 4).

The Return from the Flight into Egypt provides another example of Chiari’s virtuosity and unique style. Here, however, he turns from echoing the past to adumbrating the future. The refined handling of the paint and elegant figural poses pay homage to the classical tradition; however, the playfulness, delicate coloration, and ornamental enrichment mark the transition into the sensuous, intimate style of the rococo movement which emerged in France and spread throughout Europe in the 18th century (Chilvers, 507).

M&G has two works by Chiari on this subject, one titled The Rest on the Flight into Egypt and this rendering titled The Return from the Flight into Egypt. Over the years scholars have found the less traditional title of this 1712 work problematic. However, “the light-hearted, almost celebratory mood” (echoed in the Rococo style) reinforce the idea that here, Chiari intends to highlight the family’s return from rather than flight into Egypt. Regardless of the debate, art experts like Christopher Johns note that this picture may be the best example of Chiari’s work in America.

 

Donnalynn Hess, M&G Director of Education

 

Resources:

Baroque Paintings from the Bob Jones University Collection by David H. Steel

Baroque Painting: Twenty Centuries of Masterpieces from the Era Preceding the Dawn of Modern Art, edited by Stefano Zuffi

Concise Dictionary of Art and Artists, 3rd edition by Ian Chilvers

“Giuseppe Bartolomeo Chiari,” The Art Bulletin, March, 1968, Vol. 50, No. 1 by Bernhard Kerber and Franciscono Renate

“Seeing Chiari Clearly,” Artibus Et Historiae, 2012, Vol. 33, No. 66 by Katherine M. Wallace and William Wallace

 

Published 2024

Object of the Month: August 2024

The Visitation

Oil on canvas, signed and dated lower left: L. Boulogne le J.f. 1688 

Louis de Boullogne, the Younger

French, 1654-1733

Louis de Boullogne, the Younger is a second-generation French painter who with his brother studied at the French Academy and also in Rome. Unlike most other students, however, Boullogne later taught at the Paris Academy and then became its director. He went on to become First Painter to King Louis XIV. His work is known throughout France, especially at Versailles.

When one encounters a work of art, one often has a visceral reaction to some aspect of the work. No doubt the vibrant colors in The Visitation by Louis de Boullogne are a lovely invitation into an appreciation of the painting. In the mid-1800s, Charles George, the Commissaire-Expert of the Louvre, complimented the choice of color and even the “fresh and graceful” brushstrokes. But to really understand a work, one must know the subject matter; after all, the work is but a vehicle for the meaning.

The title refers to the visit of the Virgin Mary to her cousin Elizabeth shortly after Gabriel announced that God had chosen Mary to bear the Messiah (Luke 1). Elizabeth herself had also been the recipient of God’s grace. Mirroring Sarah and Abraham, Elizabeth and Zechariah (also Zacharias) were old and childless. But God sent Gabriel to meet Zechariah with a message of miraculous birth three months before the angel appeared to Mary.

To visit the one who can best sympathize with her situation, Mary travels nearly one hundred miles “in haste,” needing encouragement, for the public ordeal that will doubtless come from her pregnancy. Nazareth was a small town, and “bad” news always travels fast. As Mary greets Elizabeth, now openly six-months pregnant, the baby (John as he will be called) leaps “in her womb for joy.” This first meeting of the cousins—John the Baptist, the Way-Preparer and Christ the Messiah—foreshadows the joy of their partnership in turning the hearts of Israel toward God.

Both mothers have crucial roles to play in the redemption story. Though Elizabeth is the elder and Mary the visitor, Boullogne places the characters on the same step of the house. Their mirrored poses—clasped right hands and left hands placed on one another’s shoulders—show their equality as well. Both mothers are handmaidens of the Lord, being the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecies. This certainty of God’s hand upon them gives both women the strength they need to endure the whispers and stares of their community.

Elizabeth’s response to Mary’s unrecorded greeting, wondering that “the mother of my Lord” would come to visit her and blessing Mary and the “fruit of her womb” prompts Mary’s own praise of “God [her] Savior.” Both Mary and Elizabeth know their place in the redemption story—recipients of the Messiah’s saving work.

Possibly influenced by the school of Carlo Maratta, Boullogne chose colors and brushstrokes to make this a winsome and charming portrayal of two godly women. Zechariah as the elder forerunner is thus placed superior to Christ on the steps, yet his son John’s fame and ministry will decrease as the Messiah Himself rises in prominence. Joseph’s presence is not noted in the biblical text, which is an appropriate omission for this first-recorded recognition of the Son of God by those He came to save.

 

Dr. Karen Rowe Jones, M&G board member

 

Published 2024