As the season ends - a selection of paintings of flowers and fruit

 

The Nasturtiums, No. 2, by Thaddeus Welch, circa 1861-1897.

Still Life with Fruit, by Isaac Soreau, circa 1638.

Autumn Bouquet, by Vanessa Bell, 1912.

An Imaginary Carnation, Aurangabad, North Deccan, 1669 AD.

Still Life with a Carafe, Flowers, and Fruit, by Henri Fantin-Latour, 1865.

Basket of Fruit, by Caravaggio, circa 1599.

Tulips, Rose, Honeysuckle, Apple Blossom, Poppies and Other Flowers in a Glass Vase, with Butterflies, on a Marble Ledge, by Rachel Ruysch, circa early 1690s.

Bouquet of Peonies, by Édouard Manet, 1882.

Still Life with Fruit, by Jacob van Walscapelle, 1675.

Pomegranates, by John Singer Sargent, 1908.

Floral Arrangement with Berries, by Fernand Renard, circa second half of the twentieth century.

The Basket of Wild Strawberries, by Jean-Siméon Chardin, circa 1761.

Basket of Flowers, by Juan de Arellano, circa mid-seventeenth century.

Still Life with Roses, by Félix Vallotton, 1920.

A Glass Compote with Peaches, Jasmine Flowers, Quinces, and a Grasshopper, by Fede Galizia, circa 1600.

Guelder Roses and the Venus de Milo, by Édouard Vuillard, 1905.

Strawberries, by  William Hammer, 1874.

Narcissus is more than a flower

We've had a few sunny and warm days here in Portland; the rain and cold will soon return, but it's been lovely. It's also been lovely, of late, to see what our new/old yard has in store, what the Spring will be presenting us with. (I've always heard that when you've come into possession of a old yard you need to spend the first year doing little and waiting to see what comes popping out of the ground; I'm sure I won't have that much patience.) At this point there really isn't even the shadow of what one could call a garden - the whole place has been horribly neglected, for years by the look of it - and back and front and side yards are all a dreary, flat nothing. But Nature is remarkably persistent, and besides the crocus - not at all my favorite - all sorts of other things are presently peeping out. There are quite obvious signs of tulips and the fragile beginnings of what I really hope are peonies - which are among my favorites. The most prevalent of the new re-arrivals are unmistakably daffodils and/or narcissus (I can't yet tell which)... which leads us - with the most tenuous thematic connection - to this post. To mark the beginnings of Spring, here are a just few examples inspired by that most fertile mythological ground for painters, the sad and instructive story of Narcissus. So, with your indulgence, I offer you a small, scantily-clad bouquet of narcissi!

Echo and Narcissus, by John William Waterhouse, 1903.

Narcissus Gazing at His Reflection, by Dirck van Baburen, circa 1621-22.

Narcissus, by Gyula Benczúr, 1881.

Narcissus, by Joseph Denis Odevaere, circa 1820.

The Death of Narcissus, by François-Xavier Fabre, 1814.

Narcissus, by Franciscus de Neve (II), after circa 1650.

Narcissus, by Franc Kavčič (known, variously, as Franz Caucig, Franco Caucig, Francesco Caucig, or Frančišek Caucig), before 1810.

Narcissus, by Caravaggio, circa 1597-99.

Three paintings by Cristofano Allori + 2

The Hospitality of St. Julien, circa 1615-1620.
The beautiful modeling of the faces and bodies of the three younger men - the warm, soft but precise light - and the way they are posed - the very
particular stance of the boatman, the tender way the barely covered pilgrim is held by the red-shirted young man - I find quite remarkably sensual.

Cristofano Allori (17 October 1577, Florence – 1 April 1621, Florence), Italian painter of the late Florentine Mannerist school whose work marks a transition to the early Baroque. He was the son of Alessandro Allori, and thus the "grand-nephew" of the great Bronzino. He received his first lessons in painting from his father, but later entered the studio of Gregorio Pagani, who was one of the leaders of the late Florentine school, which sought to unite the rich coloring of the Venetians with the Florentine attention to drawing. Much of Allori's output was in portraiture, and his often extreme fastidiousness meant that his oeuvre is small.

St. John the Baptist in the Desert. Date unknown.

Judith With the Head of Holofernes, circa 1610-1612.

He is best known for his much copied Judith With the Head of Holofernes. His seventeenth-century biographer claims that the model for the Judith was the artist's mistress, Maria Mazzafirri - La Mazzafirra - (died 1618) and that the elderly servant was posed by her mother, while the head of Holofernes is generally thought to represent the artist himself. Allori and La Mazzafirra - who posed for several of his paintings - reportedly had a very tumultuous relationship, and the Judith can be easily interpreted as a commemoration of their unhappy liaison and the artist's suffering.

There is something quite remarkable about this depiction of the beautiful, sensual face of La Mazzafirra. The caressing light, the direct, challenging gaze, the sense of impending movement in the mouth. That, along with the brilliant color of the whole and the deceptively calm grace with which it tells its dramatic story - Judith turning, leaning back slightly, her servant leaning forward - make it easy to understand why this painting has been so greatly admired from its first appearance more than four hundred years ago.

***

I should mention that Allori's Judith was painted right around the same time as Caravaggio's David With the Head of Goliath. Both employ a similar pose, and both are said to be a portrait of the artist's lover in the role of slayer - a favorite former studio assistant in the case of the Caravaggio - and a self portrait in the role of slayed.

David With the Head of Goliath, by Caravaggio, circa 1605-1610.

***

And I'd be no respectable completist if I didn't include my own Judith, my own nod to the particular pose and autobiographical content; both portraits are of the artist this go 'round. I have to say that I made no conscious reference to either of these paintings when conceiving mine, but I certainly knew of them and I must have pulled from that knowledge.

Judith et Holopherne, 2010.