The Helping Hand, 1881 by Renouf
A granddaughter helping her grandfather – doesn’t she look determined?
I’m posting this today because it’s one of the lovely pieces of art in my
brother and SIL’s house.
Fine Art Friday – Renouf
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Tag Archives: fineartfriday
Fine Art Friday – Rien Poortvliet
I became acquainted with Rien Poortvliet through browsing the shelves of the children’s section of my local library. His rich illustrations and pencil sketches are earthy in tone and subject. His sense of humor and appreciation for animals, both domestic and wild, animate his work. Poortvliet is best known for his book Gnomes, which I don’t particularly care for.
I’m struggling with finding images to post. I was sad to learn that he died of cancer in 1995. Am I breaking copyright if he has died? I wanted you to see the faces that he draws – I could look at them for long periods of time.
We have Noah’s Ark and He Was One of Us. I’d like to get Dogs and Horses; I’d *love* to get Daily Life in Holland in 1566 and In My Grandfather’s House. The prices are really high since they are out of print. In my ideal world, I’d run across them at garage sales, in perfect condition for $3.00!!
In fact, I just clicked on Amazon used sales to buy the Farm Book and The Book of the Sandman and the Alphabet of Sleep. After all, I have a little grandson to read to. The last little book is really a bargain. If it’s as good as I expect it to be, I will make many, many purchases for future baby showers.
If you are interested and have time you can see 400 images here.
Fine Art Friday – Kuroda Seiki
Barbara introduced me to the Japanese Impressionist artist Kuroda Seiki (1866-1924). He accompanied family members to Paris to study law. While there he had a change of heart and took up the study of painting. Y’all know how I love pictures of readers. Isn’t this a lovely find for Fine Art Friday? It’s called Reading (1891).
Here’s some more:
Maiko (1893)
Woman (In the Kitchen)
Fine Art Friday – Degas
This week I read The Monument, a young adult book by Gary Paulsen. In it a recently adopted 13 year old girl encounters an artist, Mick, and it changes her life. She looks at her small Kansas town through Mick’s eyes and sees everything in a new light. Her leg brace and coffee-colored skin set her apart from the other kids her age so that a tag-along dog she adopted, Python, is her only companion. Mick gives her a book about Degas to study.
But even with that, even with the beauty, I was still trying to work, trying to see the colors and the way Degas had drawn things until I turned the page and just stopped, stopped dead.
It was a painting of a group of young women practicing ballet, called The Dance Master. The wall in the room was green and there was a big mirror on one side for the dancers to see themselves. In the background there is a raised platform or bleachers for people to sit and watch and dancers are everywhere, practicing, stretching, fixing their costumes. On one side there is an older man leaning on a cane–an instructor–and he is watching them, studying them, and still I would have been all right except for the girl.
She was standing to the side of the dancers but almost in the middle of the painting and she is watching them, worried about something, with her hand to her mouth, and I looked at her and started to cry.
She looked like me, or sort of like me, but that wasn’t it–at first I didn’t know why I was crying. Then I thought of what they were, all of them, dancers, and that all of what they were was gone.
The painting was done in the late eighteen-hundreds. They were all gone. All dead. I wanted to know the girl, wanted to watch them practice. I wanted to see the dresses move and hear the music, wanted to know which ones the dance master picked for performance and if the girl who looked a little like me was one of them. I wanted to talk to them and ask them how it was to wear the costumes and dance and dance and dance without one stiff leg. I wanted to know their dreams and hopes…
It was a painting of a group of young women practicing ballet, called The Dance Master. The wall in the room was green and there was a big mirror on one side for the dancers to see themselves. In the background there is a raised platform or bleachers for people to sit and watch and dancers are everywhere, practicing, stretching, fixing their costumes. On one side there is an older man leaning on a cane–an instructor–and he is watching them, studying them, and still I would have been all right except for the girl.
She was standing to the side of the dancers but almost in the middle of the painting and she is watching them, worried about something, with her hand to her mouth, and I looked at her and started to cry.
She looked like me, or sort of like me, but that wasn’t it–at first I didn’t know why I was crying. Then I thought of what they were, all of them, dancers, and that all of what they were was gone.
The painting was done in the late eighteen-hundreds. They were all gone. All dead. I wanted to know the girl, wanted to watch them practice. I wanted to see the dresses move and hear the music, wanted to know which ones the dance master picked for performance and if the girl who looked a little like me was one of them. I wanted to talk to them and ask them how it was to wear the costumes and dance and dance and dance without one stiff leg. I wanted to know their dreams and hopes…
Fine Art Friday – Monet’s Garden at Giverny
Monet’s Garden in Giverny
More about this piece. Aren’t these bright colors perfect for the day today? I have loved Monet since Madame Ferguson taught me French in high school.
Here’s the thing: I don’t know much about this piece but I like it. I’m not even sure that it’s Monet. It involved ray tracing. Does anyone have a clue what ray tracing is? It appears to be an artistic application of science. Interesting, huh? Have a great Friday!
Fine Art Friday – Peter Ilsted
Girl Reading by Peter Vilhelm Ilsted (1861-1933)
www.leicestergalleries.com
Peter Ilsted painted several pictures of women reading. Some of them are at the side, some are shown from behind, but they all appear lost in their books. Doesn’t it make you wonder what kind of home he grew up in? Did he have sisters or a mother who grabbed odd moments to pick up a book?
You can read more about him here.
“His art expresses the essence of life in Copenhagen at the turn of the
twentieth century: tranquility and orderliness, contentment with home
and family and the isolation from the political and social turmoil in
the countries to the south. He was one of a group of Danish artists
known for works of sun-filled rooms utilizing subtle colors, simplistic
interiors inhabited with one or more figures.”
twentieth century: tranquility and orderliness, contentment with home
and family and the isolation from the political and social turmoil in
the countries to the south. He was one of a group of Danish artists
known for works of sun-filled rooms utilizing subtle colors, simplistic
interiors inhabited with one or more figures.”
Happy Friday, all!
Fine Art Friday – The Village Wedding
The Village Wedding by Sir Samuel Luke Fildes
My son and his fianceé have been spending their last week before school starts with us. We’ve been working on loose ends for their December wedding. I wanted Fine Art Friday to reflect this week and thought of Fildes picture. I love the way aspect of community in this celebration and the cross-generational participation. (Aside – I love seeing younger children at weddings and wince whenever I read “no children please” printed on invitations.)
Happy Friday, all!
Fine Art Friday on Thursday – Kee Fung Ng
Sampan Girl by Kee Fung Ng
Girl with Little Brother by Kee Fung Ng
Chinese Chess by Kee Fung Ng
Girl with Little Sister by Kee Fung Ng
This seems to be my China week. I saw the Chinese cello maestro, Yo-Yo Ma, in concert (still glowing!). Blog sistah Amy is over in China on a medical mission and blogging about it at Amy Loves China. On a more prosaic level, my siblings and I went out to a favorite Chinese restaurant, New Star. My sister Margo, a New Star patron for almost 30 years, is on a first name basis with Tom, the owner.
While we were eating my eye was drawn to a large painting on a wall in another section. Four children are sprawled all over the bow of a junk, dangling their legs. The children’s faces were joyfully serene.
As I walked over to get a closer look, my sister summoned Tom, who graciously answered my questions. According to Tom, Kee Fung Ng is little known here in the states [although he does have a gallery in San Francisco] but is very well known in Hong Kong. He felt lucky to have an original Ng painting. They used to have another one in the store but his father liked it so much, he took it home. Father has passed; step-mother still has painting. Exit Tom.
Googling “Kee Fung Ng” found these plates. They don’t compare to the painting in New Star, but it’s the best I can do.
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I see two of my best friends from childhood soon! Ruthie is coming over today to spend the afternoon with me. And Michelle (Micky to me) is stealing me away Friday for a day in downtown Chicago. There’s something about the pulse of the inner city, particularly the Loop, that gets my countrified blood accelerating. Will we hit the Art Institute or see the King Tut exhibit at the Field Museum? I’ll let you know next week! Both of us much prefer museums to shopping, but however we spend the time, we shall be talking and listening to one another.
Dear, old friends are such a comfort. We’ve been through thick and thin, hither and yon, painful moments of grief and great times of fun together. No matter the amount of time since we’ve last talked — it takes only a moment to pick up the threads of the relationship and be knit together.
By Saturday evening I will be back in my own home! My guys at home are back-packing so I won’t see them for another day after I return. Sigh. Hat tip to Diane for quote:
An enormous part of my past does not exist without my husband. An enormous part of my present, too. I still feel somehow that things do not really happen to me unless I have told them to him. ~ Anna Quindlen
Fine Art Friday – Daniel Garber
Orchard Window by Daniel Garber (1880-1958).
Can you tell I love pictures of people reading? I have a whole wall of these kind of pictures at home. The light through the curtains, the leg tucked under, the page ready to turn — I love all these things about this picture.
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When my brother visited my house and we had dial-up he moaned and groaned about us being in the dark ages. I rolled my eyes and said “oh puh-lease” in my mind, if not aloud. Oh how words come back to bite you! We now have DSL at home, but I’m at my sister’s and BIL’s house and they have dial-up. Every syllable Danny used to say to me has come through my mind. I don’t feel free to tie up the phone line reading other blogs so I’ve just popped on to check my email and write an occasional post. I’ll catch up with y’all later!
Fine Art Friday – Delft Pottery
This small Delft vase was a wedding present by an elderly widow who gave it to us in memory of Margretta, my grandmother and her best friend. My two grandmas, as different as night and day, were both Dutch. The Delft vase has always been precious to me and I’m thankful that it has (so far) survived raising three lively boys and my own clumsy hands.
Below are some other examples of Delft Pottery.
A Living Pencil 