News Art Blog

When we look at the sculpture of Auguste Rodin, we can’t help but feel what his figures feel. Every inch of those sculpted bodies “speaks” the language of passion, whether it be of joy, love, yearning, or anguish. In a recent study of Rodin’s The Gates of Hell, art historian Natasha Ruiz-Gómez of the University of Essex links the figures found on those monumental doors (such as Rodin’s Damned Woman; shown above) to images from the work of Jean-Martin Charcot, one of the founders of modern neurology and one of the fathers of the malady known as hysteria. When Rodin looked for a way to break away from the tired tropes of classical sculpture, Ruiz-Gómez suggests, he turned to modern medicine, especially Charcot’s work, which linked psychological and physical states in a way that showed Rodin how to make people see what others feel. By linking art and science, this study opens a new door into Rodin’s art as well as why that art still captures our imagination today. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "How Rodin Turned Early Neurology into Modern Sculpture."

“I could erase an entire life,” thinks a pensive Adolf Hitler as he stares into his mirror in one of the many striking images from the career of artist Raymond Pettibon. In our time, when words mean little and images deceive, Pettibon creates art that rewrites the meaning of words and images erased by modern society by uniting them in fascinating ways that all share a common, simmering anger. How words and pictures have been rent asunder, and how art can undo that divorce, is the subject of a major monograph on the artist titled Raymond Pettibon. A child of the late ‘60s, Pettibon found his groove in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, but his art and his message feel just as relevant and important today. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "How Raymond Pettibon Puts Words, Pictures, and Anger Back Together."

[Many thanks to the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, for the image above and other press materials related to Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, 1909–1929: When Art Danced with Music, which runs through September 2, 2013.]

You know you’ve made the big time when you rate a Google Doodle, as Gustav Klimt did this past weekend in recognition of the 150^th anniversary of his birth. Anyone around the world Googling for knowledge got a glimpse of Klimt’s iconic 1907 painting The Kiss (detail shown above). For many people, however, Klimt’s almost as overused and overexposed as Google itself. The Valentine’s Day-ification of The Kiss seems to have smoothed the rough edges of the bad boy of turn of the 20^th century Vienna and made him more kitsch than kunst. When the centennials and sesquicentennials roll around, reevaluations become unavoidable. So, can we say for certain whether Klimt’s genuine genius or overhyped kitsch? Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Gustav Klimt—Genuine Genius or Overhyped Kitsch?"

[Many thanks to the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Rodin Museum for the image above, other press materials, and an invitation to the press preview of the grand reopening on July 13, 2012.]

Everybody’s a critic, especially when it comes to public art. Mix in religion, a beloved figure, and modern art and you’ve got yourself all the ingredients for controversy. The recently unveiled statue of Pope John Paul II by Oliviero Rainaldi may be the most hated piece of art on earth at the moment. The Vatican beatified the beloved Polish pontiff earlier this month. Rainaldi’s statue was to be a tribute in honor of that step toward sainthood from the Fondazione Silvana Paolini Angelucci, a charitable organization that donated the statue to Rome. Now, Romans want to give it back, calling it a public eyesore and a black mark against the memory of the holy man they feel it fails to resemble. In that holiest of cities for Catholics, is the statue of John Paul II a sin against public art? Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Is the Pope’s Statue a Sin Against Public Art?"

[Image: Oliviero Rainaldi. Statue of Pope John Paul II. Rome, Italy.]