The Last Supper

One of the most legendary works of art in all of history is The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci. My original intention in writing about it was to forego an analogous approach because of how profound it remains to this day. Far be it for me to attempt to extrapolate some other message than what was originally intended by its creator due to the significance of that moment in time. Therefore, I thought a run through this work's history of abuse and destruction might be an interesting approach, and a bit different than how I've written about art in the past. I mean, it was nearly bombed to oblivion during World War II - that has to be pretty notable, right?

Then it dawned on me: comparing this piece's abuse via metaphor to anything else would do it a disservice and be an atrocity. Why? Because I don't believe it was painted to evoke emotion, but to capture a moment in history that tells a story while revealing a lot of symbolism. And not just symbolism inside the work, but also through its very existence. Instead, I'd like to dive into that symbolism because I think it's important and often overlooked.

Contrast was slightly increased in order to show greater detail.

Let me first note that two copies of The Last Supper were painstakingly created by da Vinci's assistants in order to preserve the details. As you can see from the image above, the original piece has deteriorated quite significantly over time thanks in part to a door being installed at the location which destroyed the lower-middle portion. Also note that this piece was done by da Vinci in tempera on gesso, pitch, and mastic (that is to say, egg-based painting medium on chalk, coal-based resin, and plant resin—more on this later).

Famous nowadays for how often it's been parodied, the original work was completed in the late 15th Century inside the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, Italy. Depicted is Jesus with His twelve disciples on either side of Him. From left to right—according to notes taken by da Vinci himself—we see Bartholomew, James, the half-brother of Jesus, Andrew, Judas Iscariot, Peter, John, Jesus, Thomas, James, Philip, Matthew, Jude, and finally Simon. The moment being capture is the immediate reaction of the disciples after Jesus, in the Gospel of John chapter 13, verse 21, proclaimed, "Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me."

Now then, the most poignant use of symbolism is that of the Holy Trinity. There are three doors on either side of the room, three windows in the back, the disciples are clearly clumped into groups of three, Jesus' form is that of a triangle, the legs of the table are triangles, and on Jesus' sandals are three lines in the shape of a triangles. Obviously, the number 3 and triangles represent the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The next symbol is Peter angrily standing and holding a knife pointed away from Jesus. Some experts believe this expressed what was to later occur in the Garden of Gethsemane when Peter chopped off the ear of a servant of the high priest who was attempting to arrest Jesus. This then leads to how the other disciples are reacting, as well. Bartholomew, James, and Andrew all seem shocked; John appears flush white and tilts to one side implying he may be faint; Thomas, James the Greater, and Philip appear upset and in search of more reason; lastly, Matthew, Jude, and Simon are turned towards each other in bewilderment.

Next, we have Judas Iscariot. Anyone who knows their history and/or the Bible knows that Judas was the one who betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver, which would have been worth about $200 U.S. dollars today. Some believe the bag he holds in his right hand indicates his position as the treasurer of the disciples, but I believe it symbolizes his forthcoming betrayal. I say this because he is also depicted as reaching for a loaf a bread in direct contrast to Jesus gesturing to a similar loaf in reference to Him being the Bread of Life. A small detail often missed is Judas' right arm knocking over a jar of salt. In those days, the phrase "betray the salt" was commonplace and used to express betraying one's master. Lastly, Judas is the only one obscured by shadow, leaning with his elbow on the table, and with his face turned far enough to make it difficult to see him.

Then there's Jesus. His eyes are clearly gazing downward and most will say at the loaf of bread in front of Him. I say His eyes are on His hand which would be pierced upon crucifixion. His right hand, however, is reaching for a cup and is likely a direct reference to the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 20, verses 20-23: "Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him. 'What is it you want?' he asked. She said, 'Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.' 'You don’t know what you are asking,' Jesus said to them. 'Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?' 'We can,' they answered. Jesus said to them, 'You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.'"

The final example of symbolism is purely speculative on my part. For you see, the materials used to paint this scene were woefully unreliable. Artists in the 14th and 15th Century all had much more reliable materials with which to create works of art that would last a lifetime. Given Leonardo's inarguable genius, I believe he purposefully painted this scene as he did with the full intention of it eroding over time. Why would da Vinci do this, though? I have no clue, but given his reputation for having a feverishly inventive imagination, I suppose it was to send a message. Perhaps this was the first notable use of ancient trolling by having such a powerful work of art vanish over time in order to draw attention to how much people placed value on material things. I guess you can say that I like to think of da Vinci having existed on a much higher existential plain.

I'm sure there are a lot more examples in this piece. My first thought was the varying expressions of the disciples and my guess is that they're based on each one's personality; Peter being the most obvious thanks to his reputation for popping off at the mouth so much. If you see more, I'd be curious to know! Please feel free to share it in a comment below.

Apparatus and Hand

When I was a child, I used to have a vivid recurring dream. I grew up in a nice home in Redlands, California, which was on the corner Franklin Ave. and Garden St.. We had a half-circle driveway which entered and exited on the two different streets. Across Franklin was an orange grove where we, as kids, would run around and play pretend. It was the middle-America life for us back then, even though we were on the West Coast.

This dream happened a few times when I was very young, if I recall correctly. It would begin with me standing in the front yard of our house, and I would hear pounding footsteps. (I would later discover the footsteps were from me hearing my own heartbeat as I slept.) My chest would compound and fear would rise as I would turn to gaze up Franklin Ave. I somehow knew something was coming from that direction and so its pace quickened. Sure enough, cresting the hill and streaming down the street was a creature about 4 feet tall. The best way for me to describe this creature would be to say it looked like a small Snuffleupagus draped in a white bed sheet, and covered with old, antique plastic play telephones. Dozens of telephones. This thing would zoom to the front of our house, and for some strange reason, I'd get on its back and go for a ride around the corner. That's pretty much when the nightmarish feelings would awaken me.

I can't say what spawned this dream so many times. Even now, some 40 or so years later, I can still picture it, but am at a loss as to why I had it. The only odd revelation was that it seemed to be directly linked to my heartbeat. And as enigmatic as it was, I now find myself wanting to examine it's meaning. Bear with me as this is completely spontaneous and purposefully not thought out.

My suspicion is that this dream was manifest from a combination of deep seeded desires. A) I loved adventure as a kid and getting on something as strange as the telephone monster seems fitting. Bear in mind, this was during a time when mothers and school teachers would iterate how important it was not to get into (or onto, in this case) a strange vehicle. B) My mother used to tell friends that when I was about 3 years old, I'd point to the TV screen as we watched I Love Lucy and say that that was what I wanted to do when I grew up. So, perhaps my desire for immediate and constant attention is represented by the phones covering the telephone monster's body.

Enter Apparatus and Hand . . .

Apparatus and Hand, by Salvador Dalí, is a pre-Surrealism painting which was completed in 1927. It's oil on panel, and it was Dalí's first work after returning from military service when he was 23 years old. According to experts, it was during this period that Freud's publications about psychopathology and dream interpretation were popular with Dalí, and so this piece was inspired by Freud's writings. Seemingly, the "apparatus" figure is representative of Dalí, while the grotesque hand is representative of his mind. Around him are visions of what truly beleaguers his thoughts, and thus implies what influences him to some degree.

This artwork was one of the first paintings to strike me when I was much younger and in college. At the time, I was busy being an actor when I wasn't bogged down by being a student. Art in this form wasn't really a passion for me then, but I suspect this piece is what triggered it for me. Since then, I've spent quite a lot of time studying the details, contemplating their meaning, and almost finding something unseen in previous viewings each time I looked at it. I knew the history of this piece was available online, but I never really wanted to know about it. Art, for me, is something I allow to speak to me as is and without context. If I don't know the historical context, then I don't want to know it because I'd rather art have its own uninfluenced voice. (You can see this effect quite well in my previous post, L'Ange du Foyer.)

I strategically used the term "enigmatic" above because that's what this painting has been for me for a very long time. It wasn't until about a month ago that I discussed it with a co-worker. You see, I had received a very heart-warming comment in my L'Ange du Foyer post which started the conversation. When we dove into picking this piece apart and analyzed its details, we both came pretty close to what experts have since determined with regard to its meaning. Yet, for over 20 years, it's been an enigma and a source of incredible imagination. Apparatus and Hand has been a very slow metronome where each beat reminded me to stop thinking about the here and now, to stop thinking about tomorrow and the next day, and to take a moment to contemplate the surreal. To stop and let my imagination run around and have some fun.

And so, I've returned to writing. Not just because this piece has been an intimate part of my life for two decades, but also because of that comment. If what I type here can make someone see their life in a new, encouraging light, then why should I deprive them of that? I have a gift, and so I've chosen to continue to use it.

Life

Considering the recent changes to my career, life has taken a turn that I had not anticipated: I'm ridiculously busy. Enjoying and analyzing art is a passion of mine and I do not intend to abandon it. Please know that it is my intention to return with my rather unqualified aesthetic reflections when I'm able to. For now, please accept my sincere appreciation for your unrelenting support, frequent returns, and impassioned determination to learn more about amazing, jaw-dropping, eye-stunning works of art. Don't ever let go of what others have done eons before our time. Art binds us all, is blind to color and creed, and will live forever in this digital age.

Blessings to all.

-Chad Wingerd

I'M BACK, BABY!

Nike of Samothrace

I love the term breathtaking. So few things earn the right to be called breathtaking but when they do, oh man! It's exhilarating to suddenly encounter something that stops the world and causes your vision and mind to appropriately narrow. It could be another person, the look on someone's face, a smile, a piece of art, architecture; this list goes on and on, but you get the idea. What makes the experience of having my breath taken even more amazing is the potential for awkward silence; I love it! Though, I do digress.

Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan is a great example of something breathtaking. I first saw the masterpiece at a small theater in Medford, Oregon. As the early scenes played upon the screen and the beach invasion began, my breath was thoroughly sapped as I watched a soldier instinctively trudge through the bloody water and sand in search of his severed arm. As he picked it up and headed back towards the front line, I can recall the squeeze I felt both in my chest and in my heart. As the final scenes played and Ryan turned to his wife and asked, "Tell me I'm a good man," I realized I had just watched the first movie in my life where I wasn't sure how to feel. The experience was simply breathtaking.

When something is so beautifully uncommon, it causes a physical reaction where it feels as if a cement truck has driven over my chest. From the involuntary collapsing of my lungs to the pulsating rush of blood to my head, for me it's a thrill. I don't feel like I need to put myself into dangerous positions or exotic locales to then force the same reaction. No, having it always be happenstance makes the experience all the more appreciated and genuine. From simple things like when my niece comes over to give me a hug, to complex experiences like the time I emerged from a dense forest only to myself on the edge of a boulder overhanging a deep gorge rife with greenery; these breathtaking moments are unscripted and deeply cherished.

Nike of Samothrace, (also known as Winged Victory of Samothrace), by an unknown artist, is a marble sculpture of the Greek Goddess Nike (Victory) as she descends from the heavens to pay tribute to those who have just won a great sea battle. Estimated to have been sculpted around 190 B.C., the piece is one of the most celebrated and famous works of art known to mankind. Accolades aside, what is most striking about the figure is the collision of violent motion, grace, and sudden stillness all culminating into something angelic and yes, breathtaking.

Admittedly, it's not easy to come up with words for this piece. If you haven't noticed, I've avoided them quite a bit and more so than any other work of art that I've written about. It's because I feel it's unnecessary and unwarranted. Here before us is something that should be quietly admired in person. Yet its embodiment of taking breath away is reason enough to at least acknowledge it. Indeed, the woman's figure and curves are tantalizing, and her 2100 year old clothing shows great similarity to what is still being designed in fashion today, but what more can I say? I feel as if I'm already belittling its significance and beauty. In other words, I don't know how to feel about this sculpture, and I certainly don't want to imply how others should feel, either. It is breathtaking and my hope is others understand this, too.

Captain Miller grabbed Ryan and pulled him closer to his face. With his last breath, he uttered, "James? Earn this ... earn it." It was one of the most powerful moments in the entire film and I feel directly correlates with what I try to do with each blog I write. I'm not here to unveil the secrets and mysteries surrounding beautiful works of art for I am no expert. I'm here merely to express how certain works can be appreciated by showing they coincide with regular human emotions. And through my words I hope to earn nothing more than increased self-respect. For in my daily life, I can be uncouth and vividly different than most others around me. Yet when I sit down to write and as dulcet tones pour into my ears helping to separate me from my surroundings, I shed every ounce of who I am to have my breath taken and to pay my respects to art.

I hope I've earned this.

A Lady in a Fur Wrap

Long-suffering isn't a term often used these days. And why not? Bad things happen to really great people all the time. It's a fact of life that along the paths we take to secure our future, there will be bumps and obstacles. Yet, let's not forget that we may also encounter an audience along the way. And like hecklers at a comedy club, there will be some who apathetically and selfishly attempt to disrupt what we're doing.

There is no magic button or super power we can take advantage of to avoid these troubles. Being a human means we will chance upon moments that are trying and laced with the self-loathing of others. Even the most famous and successful end up victims. Old adages and silly clichés won't hold the answers or bring restitution. We will have to take each annoying and frustrating encounter step-by-step, pulling from our wisdom, leaning on our ability to be patient, and hoping to find support in our loved ones to make it through. For the fortunate, it may seem laborious to endure the hours and days it can take to break through, but it could be a lot worse. For the less-fortunate, it can be hell and the only resource for strength they can count on is them self.

What's great about bad things happening, though, are the wonderful lessons we learn. When we face trials that challenge us to our very core, we quickly find out what we're capable of accomplishing--of surviving. The wind knocked out of us, the rug pulled from under our feet, the support beams yanked from the walls that surround our lives; we discover what is ultimately most important, cherished, and essential for living. Through it all, we relearn what it means to be truly content. As the world around us shakes violently, the chafe is loosed and the dust that gathered falls to the floor. With our humanity exposed and completely vulnerable, we are given the gift of sight--pure sight.

A Lady in a Fur Wrap, by Doménikos "El Greco" Theotokópoulos (1541-1614), is an oil-on-canvas painting of what is believed to be his long time lover, Jeronima. Typically known for his Biblical themed works that used harsher colors and lighting, El Greco steps away from his usual repertoire to illustrate an individual who is both breathtaking and seemingly timid. With gentle, smooth strokes and subdued shades, El Greco creates a sense of warm beauty surrounded by a shadowy coldness. Clearly, the subject is a woman of some wealth and influence, but again, the story of who she is and what she symbolizes is all in her eyes.

With a piece like this, I'm amazed at the complexity found in its simplicity. It's just a painting of a woman against a dark background. But in the upper right corner, I notice what appears to be the edge of a stone wall or doorway. My senses are then tickled to presume she is outside somewhere, maybe in an alleyway or a dense marketplace at night. And then I'm drawn to her face and eyes, and everything else fades. Her look is deceiving. Is it, "Come hither", or does she know something from experience and is now confronted with eminent peril of which she will triumph because of her resolve?

A close and beloved friend of mine recently went through a long string of heartbreaking and extremely frustrating circumstances. Her life was suddenly halted by an emotional challenge that was nearly too much to bear. And when she began to barely see the light at the end of the tunnel, her personal world took a battering as the selfishness of others kicked her while she was down. Left isolated and very limited, she and her companions did what they could to trek through the muck and mire of what was left of their lives at that time. Recently, however, my friend announced that things were finally coming together and life was slowly working itself back to normal. She was bruised and scarred, but she had conquered forces out of her control. Through the love and support of her friends, through her tenacious will and inner strength, and by finding out how much she was truly capable of suffering through, she not only survived, she triumphed.

When I see this amazing piece of art, I immediately think of my friend. I am sure the same look on the face of this woman can be found on her. My friend is still the same person. Smart, whimsical, charming, full of life and energy, yet now with greater wisdom and a deeper, more determined look in her eyes. The best part about this unfortunate adventure was when she started talking about how things were going to change for the better. It was reasonable for her to feel anger and frustration, but she didn't give in to a victim mentality. She merely reached forward with all her might to emerge from the crater that had pierced her life, and she stood at the edge with a new look upon her face.

I know what she's going to do now. She's going to keep moving forward, never looking back. She's going to be stronger, wiser, and that much more special to those of us who know her.

This is for you, MM.

A Man Looks at the Hudson River from the New York Tower of the George Washington Bridge on Dec. 22, 1936

The hustle and bustle of life moves quickly. If you're not careful or are one prone to misfortune, you're probably going to miss quite a bit of it. There is no replay button or time machine to go back and relive moments of life that should have or could have been lived with gusto. It's just the way things are and along the paths, each of us succumbs to forces we are unable to control thereby skipping passed experiences and memories that would have been cherished. I suppose you could call it fate or karma; the bottom line is you're only able to live if you choose to, moment by moment. Or are we?

There are some who seem to be framed in by the incredible world around them but unable to attain meaningful moments. Dragged down by misjudgment, foolish assumption, or unfair bias, these individuals whoosh by moments in their lifetime that would have otherwise meant more. They are held back by others in their lives simply because they hold themselves to a higher standard, aren't willing to take the same risks, or wish to not be a burden. They are all still unique individuals with talents and worth which would easily be a blessing for many, but the devious, selfish nature of the majority take advantage of their sensitivity, anchoring them to a life that is mediocre and wrought with loneliness.

Each of us has choices. Unfortunately, most choose to ignore nobility and meekness. In the shadows and around corners not often traversed are the souls of amazing people who just wish to please. They are kind, they are motivated, and they are filled with the strongest hope any human can imagine. In the eyes of those who are ultimately insecure and threatened, they are mocked and disregarded as weak. But it's when no one is looking that their true colors shine. Stopping to admire a view, enjoying the scent of a flower, seeing an object that reminds them of someone special; they are the true embodiment of what most outspoken and far more popular people claim to admire. But claiming isn't enough and all too often, they are just words. Holidays, birthdays, get-togethers, all kinds of special and meaningful social activities occur and left out are the "odd-balls." It's been that way for eons. There, on the precipice of what could be a more fulfilling life for everyone are the folks who just don't fit in, aren't regarded in social circles, and are often ignored or forgotten. Forlorn, each one of them hurts, but it's not often you would know. It's just not in their nature to tell.

A Man Looks at the Hudson River from the New York Tower of the George Washington Bridge on Dec. 22, 1936, by Jack Rosenzwieg (unknown date birth) of the Associated Press, courtesy of the New York City Municipal Archives, is a black and white image of a man gazing out over the Hudson River towards New York City. Thought to be one of several archival photos meant to capture New York's ever-growing expansion, the piece gives both graphic engineering detail of the George Washington Bridge as well as an idea of how the NYC skyline looked in 1936. Even more tantalizing is the vivid detail of the photo almost giving the viewer a sense of color in the steel and sky. Capturing a lone man standing on the relatively newly built bridge, Rosenzwieg froze a moment of time and history that can mean so much more to the discerning eye: What it's like to feel insignificant in a giant world.

The Industrial Revolution was a marvelous time of tenacity and ingenuity. With great detail, we're able to see just how precise and rigid things were built during that era. Lighting was nearly perfect for this shot and with the haze blanketing NYC in the background, the picture ends up embodying more than just a record of man's greatest achievements. It also captures what it's like to be someone right in the middle of an amazing life but for the fact that he is on his own, alone, and unbeknownst to anyone else around him. Faceless, shadowy, he rests against the frames of what is his life at that very moment in time watching a burgeoning metropolis go about its business, nary a thought dedicated to him.

Who is he? What are his thoughts?

Does it matter?

You know, being charitable doesn't mean you are noble. Millions of faceless people all around the world are blessed through the spirit of giving found in others, yet some of those same people who share their wealth are the ones who ignore the face right next to them. Signing the check to help those ravaged by hunger and then off to a party to behave as peacocks and celebrate popularity. Oh no, wait! Let's update our Facebook pages with images. Let's hoist our fun into the faces of everyone else without regard to our audience. Because being self-absorbed and broadcasting our in-the-moment moments are just fine and what others should be doing, too. Right?

But what about the guy on the bridge? He's not a charity case but what surrounds a man does not make the man. Strip away his life, his job, his clothing, his home and expose his core. What you have left is another human being, pumping the same colored blood through his veins, feeling the same feelings you and I do, standing there utterly vulnerable and merely hoping to be appreciated. Merely hoping the staring faces around him won't begin to laugh as they have so many times before.

Take time to appreciate those around you who don't have as much. Cast aside ill-conceived notions of possession, ignore stereotypes, and refuse to give in to your own fears and insecurities. Just be good at heart and to all mankind. That's it.

The Knitting Girl

Do you pine? I do and it has become something that consumes my mind on a daily basis. Imagining the things I want to achieve, the things I wished I would have achieved, places I'd like to go, people I'd like to see; on and on my synapses fire off signals. The interesting part is how the environment around me can shape my pining. Little things that catch my eye send my mind into a flurry of the "what could be" category of imagination and off I go. Earn this, find that, discover something, reaching it; forever the twisting of my deepest desires flutter about in my head.

I suppose it's human nature to conjure up what ifs and I'll be bold enough to suggest that denying them would be an atrocity to living. Where would we get inspiration? How would be find motivation? Wouldn't we just be insulting on inherent freedoms of existence?

There really isn't one thing that garners the majority of my pining. In fact, on some levels, all of the things I hope to achieve or wish to earn are tied together. For I've discovered I cannot have one thing without adjusting the other things I also want to have. To be rather superficial, let's take the Audi S5 as an example. By and large, this particular vehicle is one of my favorites. It's not too unpractical, it's not super expensive, and the idea that I could someday own one is within reasonable grasp. However, to be able to purchase one, I need to adjust other aspects of my life. Personally and professionally, there needs to be advancement and thus, determination. And there you have it! Pining for the Audi S5 has come full circle and I am now imaging where improvement is needed so I can achieve greater success and therefore buy the car of my dreams.

Silly as this may sound, I still hope it makes sense. Take away the materialistic qualities of the example and you have revealed the emotional connections. Marriage? A family? The ability to experience the world and other cultures? Discovering your genealogical roots? Each one of these desires is tied to an emotional cue which would then require your life to shift on at least two levels. The only responsibility you have left to your heart and mind is to achieve.

The Knitting Girl, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905), is a simple painting of a young female seated next to a tree, knitting and gazing off towards the horizon. At first glance, the piece is extremely realistic and delicately created. The subject's skin is supple and free of blemishes suggesting she comes from at least a modest, middle-class family. Her clothing, however, is rather common and for me, this suggests she may be in the employment of a local seamstress or family friend. Yet the detail and enchanting light pull the viewer to the more important theme of Bouguereau's work: What is she thinking?

I notice her eyes almost immediately. They are sad yet seemingly hopeful. Her hands appear to be busy with her knitting but her face says she's imaging something else. Therefore, this piece is intriguing to me. You have an excellent example of why art is fascinating. Some may wish to indulge the color and precision while others seek to find answers to the suggested evocations. For me, it's the latter and her tender expression makes me wonder, does she want something else? Is she hoping to find more out of life? Where could she be in the recesses of her mind?

Honestly, who doesn't pine? We all have things we do each day that are routine or necessary, and I truly feel it's impossible not to imagine better. It doesn't have to be about what you're doing in the here and now, it could be about things that warm your heart or tickle your fancy. And in each instance, we're able to find reason and hope; to find the vitality we need to push forward and reach new heights. It's not about envy or coveting what others have that you may not. It's about advancing who you are as a person, as a sibling, as a spouse, as a member of society. Pining for what could be is much different than pining for what should be. Making that distinction is important and once averted, then the only challenge left is to reach. How does this painting tie it all together? By implying that to accomplish one's dreams and goals will require meticulous knitting of one's life and emotions. Otherwise, everything will just fall apart.