Witches’ Sabbath in Trier is a broadsheet that depicts a witches’ sabbath, and was a piece of the thriving print culture of sixteenth century Germany. The image of the witch reflects misogynistic beliefs about women, rooted in the Bible and the female life course. Witch persecution meant that people could find and punish the roots of evil causing their misfortune: witches sent by Satan. This othered population was most often impoverished women whose bodies were scrutinized as possible vessels for evil. Broadsheets like this one were a terrifying and fascinating form of entertainment, helping to spread misogynistic beliefs about witchcraft.
The only artist to be featured at all eight Impressionist Exhibitions in Paris was Camille Pissarro. The Impressionist movement emerged during a period of rapid social change and growing industrialization with more people moving to cities. In Pissarro’s works, he specifically concentrated on the conditions of different weather and times of day to alter how he painted scenes of a city. My paper focuses on the Boulevard Montmartre series and his use of building tonal relationships and skill of lighting placement across the fourteen paintings in order to establish a harmonious composition where the day’s essence radiates off the canvas.
Many people and cultures throughout history have taken great interest in the end of the world. Christianity has been used to answer questions about the Apocalypse in the final book of the Bible, the Book of Revelation. Artists from all around the world have used this apocalyptic text as inspiration for their works. In 1498, German artist Albrecht Dürer published a series of fifteen woodcuts depicting scenes from Revelation. One of these was “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse”, which can be used to more readily understand the teachings and beliefs of the Christian Church in 15th-century Europe.
Tawaraya Sotatsu’s screen door print of the Japanese deities you cannot dismiss how unique each one of the figures appears. You also cannot help but wonder how these deities ended up looking the way that they did. We look back to 13th-century Japan to see why Raijin and Fujin ended up being depicted as they did. We consider their history, analysis, and the artist's importance within Japanese culture.
The University of Cincinnati Art Collection houses prints by two early 20th century German Expressionist printmakers, Max Pechstein (1881-1955) and Käthe Kollwitz (1867-1945). Pechstein’s Das Vater Unser (The Lord’s Prayer) series (1921) originally a portfolio of twelve, is represented in the University of Cincinnati Art Collection with nine of the bold woodcut prints. Kollwitz’s small postcard lithographs, Two Chatting Women with Two Children (c. 1930) and The Hospital Visit (c. 1926), are intimate and show the artists soft touch. Though formally very different, these prints share a common subject, the suffering of Germans during the interwar period (1918-1939). Both artists personally experienced both World Wars and their tragedies, and while Pechstein rarely addressed it directly, Kollwitz’s career was full of her antiwar sentiments. The prints grapple with the grief, political turmoil, and financial difficulties associated with the interwar period and each artist turns to their own form of religion to exercise their pain.
“Squinting at the Details” looks at an artwork by Guercino titled “Mars with Cupid: and attempts to identify possible references and symbolism in the smaller details found in the work.
The young boy in Francisco de Zurbarán’s (1598-1664) Saint Peter Nolasco Recovering the Image of the Virgin of El Puig (1630) has been suggested to be either Zurbarán’s son, Juan de Zurbarán (1620–1649), or the son of James I of Aragon, Alfonso of Castile (1229–1260). Despite visual dominance, most scholars do not address the boy, and those who do offer conflicting identifications. This paper bridges the gap between these varying opinions, and concretely identifies the most formally important figure in this commission that defined Zurbarán’s career. The argument is built on the writings of Zurbarán scholar Martin S. Soria, as well as a comparison to Zurbarán’s body of work at large, primarily his tendency to create from life, and his suspected self-portrait, The Crucified Christ with a Painter (1650). I conclude that the child in the piece is likely a culmination of Juan and Alfonso and explore the implication of Zurbarán depicting his child in the noble and pious role of James the Conqueror’s son, paying witness to the rediscovery of the Virgin of El Puig. The combined figure of Juan and Alfonso gains significance through an exploration of historical context surrounding the legend of the Virgin of El Puig and its key figures. By drawing parallels between 17th-century Spanish colonialism contemporary to Zurbarán’s time and 13th-century Reconquista depicted in the painting, Zurbarán uses this composite figure to assert a vision of his lineage as triumphant and divinely favoured. Ultimately, this paper continues and expands upon Soria’s writings on the subject, and places Zurbarán within a Baroque tradition of artists, such as Velázquez, who used painting to assert their profession as divinely-inspired, nobel, and distinct from craftsmen.