Robert N. Reincke

Caravaggioism in Contemporary Art

Contemporary artists from Frank Stella, Cindy Sherman, Bill Viola, Julian Schnabel, Robert Longo, and Martin Scorsese to Louise Smith, the young short-list winner of 2011’s National Portrait Gallery’s Portrait Award, appropriate, quote (Jones 2011, 30) and/or are informed by techniques, images, ideas, and even “projected spherically informed space” (Weschler 1987, 98) from Caravaggio. Indeed, Caravaggio, the Baroque genius Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio who died in 1610, has grown increasingly familiar to many contemporary artists. Although first resurfacing after centuries of being ignored with a comprehensive show of his work in Milan in 1951 followed by one in Paris in 1965, and a more limited one in Cleveland in 1971, the period of increasing “Caravaggiomania” (Spear 2010) most notably spans from the 35 piece showcase (there are only 60 authenticated pieces in all) of his works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in 1985 through last year when two dozen of his paintings were exhibited in Rome to estimates of five thousand visitors a day in commemoration of the 400th anniversary of his death.

According to University of Toronto art historian Philip Sohm, “Caravaggio’s popularity—if measured by the number of books, catalogues, and scholarly papers devoted to him—has overtaken that of the other Michelangelo Buonarroti in the last 50 years” (Kimmelman 2010). His popularity spans to the interests of all living generations of contemporary artists and the artistic styles and/or movements represented by his work have expanded from the Baroque of his day to many of the contemporary categories we use today—from Julian Schnabel’s neo-expressionist Exile painting completed in 1980 to Frank Stella’s current move towards “radical abstraction” (Ottmann 2011, 25), Cindy Sherman’s Post-Modern Masters Series, and what scholar Mieke Bal refers to as the “Contemporary Baroque” used by artists as diverse as Andres Serrano, David Reed, Jeannette Christenson, and Carrie Mae Weems as outlined in her book Quoting Caravaggio Contemporary Art, Preposterous History published in 1999. According to David Ekserdjian in an article written for The Art Newspaper last July (2010), “Caravaggio has become the ultimate old master superstar,” subject of his own biobpic, Derek Jarman’s Caravaggio, from 1986.
But, why? Why do contemporary artists take such interest in Caravaggio?

(more…)

I found the orchid two years ago in a trashcan a thousand miles away. It now proudly sits on our living room table in an antique porcelain vase. The last of its once-brilliant red-violet blooms dangles in its demise.

The flowerless orchid was perched upright on the top of a heap of garbage in a West Hollywood trashcan. Its flowers had fallen, leaving a barren vine held to a stick by a plastic dragonfly. I took it home where my partner, Mike, gently cut off its flowerless stalk and began to nurture the abused plant. Despite his attentive care, the plant looked like it may die.

We knew it was time to move when the noise pollution from leaf blowing landscapers and pile-driving, jack-hammering construction workers from nearby buildings became so consistently annoying that I found myself wearing construction ear muffs in our cramped apartment. Then Mike totaled his car on his drive to work, which began his five-hour commute via public transit. We had long-ago tired of sky-high rent, beeping trucks, the sting of mosquitoes through unscreened windows, and broiling heat from an endless and increasingly harsh sun. Mike's near-fatality was the last straw.

The economic crash of late 2008 frightened me into interviewing for a job in a friendly and creative city. Portland was mellow and green; its clean, vibrant air often misty. I packed even though the job never finalized (thank Gd!); I knew we'd find a way. A long-weekend trip gave us hope for a teaching job for Mike, and soon we found an affordable rental. We'd move me, Spunky, Pollo the fish, and most the furniture first. Mike would join in a month when he finished his old job. The plants would remain until we brought Mike up.

When Mike returned to West Hollywood after accompanying our cat and me up to Portland, he found that the orchid had begun to bloom. He text-messaged a photo of its magnificent flowers. A true gift, the orchid helped keep him sane in a barren apartment far away from those he loved. Soon his teaching job came through.

When it came time for us to drive Mike, the remaining household goods, and the plants, we realized we had far too much to fit in the SUV we rented to drive him up. Mike suggested that since the orchid's full cascade of flowers were so unwieldy, perhaps we should give it to his mother; it could easily be crushed in the over-packed car. We agreed not to, and managed to safely pack it. Later I realized that the orchid that was once discarded because it didn't have any flowers was nearly lost a second time because it had.

Happy in its new home, it bloomed an unprecedented four months—during Mike's transition to his new job, my acceptance into art school, and, unfortunately, the construction noise of a new sewer line being installed just outside our house. It will be flowerless for at least a year—orchids do not bloom that often. Only a few fleshy leaves will be supported by spindly roots, some which coil above the bark. Always beautiful to us, it will remain in its spot on the center of the table.

In the back of our garden stand clumps of bamboo appropriately named clumping bamboo. Some of it had been cut to dozens of razor sharp stumps by yard hackers before we moved in (I injured my heal and arch while naively walking barefoot in the dark shortly after we arrived). Another section of it hadn’t been cut at all.

The uncut portion was thick with its own dead branches, and bent over a wooden fence into our neighbor’s yard. This unruly full-grown portion (I’ve learned all parts of the bamboo plant can be monstrously out-of-control) was in the far right corner of our garden. Being one who loves symbolism and knows a bit about Feng Shui, I determined that this part of the bamboo was in my Feng Shui “Relationship Corner.” Another section of razor-sharp clumps rests in the middle of the back garden, which is my “Fame/Illumination/Self Expression” area—not a good place to have mangling, bamboo shards!

One recent sunny day, I decided it was time to start cleaning it up. Having nothing other than rose clippers, I went to the local, super-friendly, hardware store to obtain the proper tools. This store is staffed by a brigade of such over-the-top helpful people that Mike can’t stand going there. I like it, and enjoy the free popcorn on Tuesday (Mike isn’t too much into popcorn). (more…)

When Mike and I moved into our little home in Portland we were stunned to discover a garden house in our backyard. We had rented the house sight unseen and the landlord hadn’t mentioned it. It serves no purpose now; its roof leaks and some of the wood surrounding it is giving way. I can’t store garden tools in it and it’s completely impractical as a studio for my art.

Yet it’s beautiful. It’s original builder put a lot of thought and effort into it, designing it in a handsome mid-century style. More recently the little wooden house had been carefully painted in blue and green; colors I ascribe to Portland and inspiration for my new oil painting palette. Surrounded by camellia trees and very old, tall hedges, it sits perfectly in the far left corner of the yard. This corner is the money corner in Feng Sui. The house represents our money. So what, I wondered does it represent? (more…)