Friday, March 29, 2024

Upturned Heads

Benjamin Zager
What omnious [sic] thunderous devine [sic] force causes
mine suffering head and eyes too [sic] resurrect heavenwards
1937
gouache on paper
Philadelphia Museum of Art

Richard Earlom after Salvator Rosa
The Prodigal Son
1766
etching
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Louis-Marin Bonnet after Peter Paul Rubens
Head of Satyr
ca. 1770
engraving
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Gilles Demarteau after François Boucher
Head of Youth
ca. 1765
engraving
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Julio González
Solemn Head in Profile
1942
drawing, with watercolor
Tate Gallery

Dirk Helmbreker
Head of Young Man
ca. 1660
drawing
National Gallery of Art, Washington DC

Francesco di Maria
Head of Man wearing a Helmet
before 1690
drawing
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Willem Panneels
Study of Antique Head
ca. 1628-30
drawing
Statens Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen

Anthony van Dyck
Study Head of St John the Evangelist
ca. 1620
oil on panel
National Gallery of Norway, Oslo

José Vallejo
Head Study
ca. 1875
oil on canvas
Museo del Prado, Madrid

John Hamilton Mortimer
King Lear in the Storm
1776
etching
Yale Center for British Art

Alphonse Legros
Head of an Italian Model
1878
drawing
Princeton University Art Museum

Francisco Goya
Head of Angel
ca. 1771-72
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Gaetano Gandolfi
Head of Saint
ca. 1785
etching
Philadelphia Museum of Art

Alexandre Cabanel
Study of Head
ca. 1870
drawing
Morgan Library, New York

Gaetano Giulio Zumbo
Blessed Soul
ca. 1700
colored wax relief
Victoria & Albert Museum, London

"They left the car park and passed through the great glass doors with their chrome portico into the atrium of the mall, where glass escalators ascended in constant rotation through three floors to the transparent dome of the roof, so that all the layers of the building could be seen from below. It was like an illustration of the chambers of the heart, people were carried upwards by the escalators, eventually to re-emerge, oxygenated by shopping. At the centre of the main hall, a huge fountain steadily pumped out its jet of water amidst fronded networks of plants, and bunches of coloured balloons drifted silently around on their tethers as though they were suspended in liquid. A steady level of mysterious hydraulic sound filled the echoing, daylight-coloured spaces, though there was music running just beneath the surface of it and human noises, strangely muffled and indistinct, like a commotion heard under water: the rise and fall of voices that came in loops and sudden reports, the piercing, shrill call of babies, the syncopated hoots and shrieks of rubber shoes on the tiled floors, and the spontaneous mechanical birdsong of mobile phones. The place was full of people, on the escalators, all along the glass-fronted galleries, milling in the broad avenues that led off the main hall; yet the strange acoustics and saturating, glassy light deadened the sense of human congress, so that they seemed almost to be swimming or floating rather than walking. The conditioned air negated the smell of bodies. Instead, the atmosphere was divided into invisible regions of perfume, and a continuous odour of coffee and baking stood around the open-air cafés like a replacement for walls and language."

– Rachel Cusk, from the novel Arlington Park (2006)