Thursday, April 6, 2023

Passion Narrative - Seventeenth-Century Imagery

Giacomo Cavedone
Pilate washing his Hands
ca. 1619-22
drawing
(study for lost painting)
Musée du Louvre

Francesco Costanzo Catanio
The Flagellation
before 1636
oil on canvas
Basilica di San Giorgio Fuori le Mura, Ferrara

Leonello Spada
Christ crowned with Thorns
ca. 1610-20
oil on canvas
Musée Condé, Chantilly

Jacob Jordaens
Ecce Homo
ca. 1616-17
drawing
Musée du Louvre

attributed to Claude Vignon
Ecce Homo
ca. 1650
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Antonio Lagorio
Ecce Homo
ca. 1680
oil on canvas
Museo Civico di Casale Monferrato

Niccolò Berrettoni
Christ falling beneath the Cross
before 1682
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Alessandro Algardi
Christ carrying the Cross
before 1654
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Cavaliere d'Arpino (Giuseppe Cesari)
Christ carrying the Cross
before 1640
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Charles Poerson
The Raising of the Cross
before 1667
drawing
(study for altarpiece)
Musée du Louvre

Giovanni Battista Rovedata
The Crucifixion
ca. 1600
oil on black marble (pietra da paragone)
Palazzo Pretorio, Trento

Ventura Salimbeni
The Crucifixion, with Saints
ca. 1600
oil on canvas
Basilica Cateriniana San Domenico, Siena

Leonardo Corona
The Crucifixion
before 1605
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Palma il Giovane
Descent from the Cross
before 1628
drawing
Musée du Louvre

attributed to Marcin Teofilowicz (Martin Theophil Polak)
Dead Christ supported by Angels
ca. 1620
oil on canvas
Palazzo Pretorio, Trento

Pablo de Céspedes
Descent of Christ into Limbo
ca. 1600
oil on panel
Indianapolis Museum of Art

from Visions at 74

The planet turns there without you, beautiful. 
Exiled by death you cannot
touch it. Weird joy to watch postulates

lived out and discarded, something crowded
inside us always craving to become something
glistening outside us, the relentless planet

showing itself the logic of what is
buried inside it. To love existence
is to love what is indifferent to you

you think, as you watch it turn there, beautiful.
World that can know itself only by
world, soon it must colonize and infect the stars.

You are an hypothesis made of flesh.
What you will teach the stars is constant
rage at the constant prospect of not-being.

– Frank Bidart (2015)