Art News Roundup: The Anteater of His Majesty Edition

As you might expect, the right-click Google Image Search function is a boon to art collectors and commentators, when we’re attempting to identify a picture that we think we’ve seen before, but aren’t exactly sure where. I was recently looking at an online auction catalog listing of a painting that’s coming up for sale, and it reminded me of something else, but I couldn’t place what about it was familiar. On a number of occasions, the search function has helped me to identify a piece, particularly when I have a notion that I’ve previously seen it, or something like it, which helps both my writing and my acquisition decision-making process. Yet another fun aspect of this function is the fact that it can lead to some interesting side trips down the digital rabbit hole.

As I was scrolling through the search results, I came across a rather unusual Old Master painting of an anteater:

anteater

The image was embedded in this 2011 online story, about how this painting in the National Museum of Natural Sciences in Madrid may well be by the great Spanish artist, Francisco de Goya (1746-1828).

In July 1776, as certain events were occurring elsewhere, King Carlos III of Spain inaugurated the Museum, and was presented with an anteater as a gift from the people of Buenos Aires. It survived its trip across the Atlantic from Argentina to Spain, and the king, no looker himself, fell in love with the strange-looking animal. Initially, the king kept the anteater in the Palacio de Oriente, the principal royal palace in Madrid, and it is hilarious to imagine His Most Catholic Majesty taking it for walks down long, marble corridors, covered with canvases by Titian and Velázquez, and frescoed with ceilings by Tiepolo.

For reasons which one can only imagine, the king eventually ordered that the anteater be moved to the Buen Retiro, a large park in downtown Madrid, where there was already a royal menagerie. “Unfortunately,” as historian Ana Mozo explains in this article [translation mine], “the animal arrived in July and died in January, probably because of the lack of ants.” While this was a sad ending to quite an unusual adventure, the animal itself was immortalized by order of the king himself.

“The Anteater of His Majesty” is not only a magnificent work of art, by one of the most important Spanish artists in history, but there is also something wonderfully eccentric, bordering on the surreal, about this entire episode and indeed the painting. As it happens, Salvador Dalí (1904-1989) also had a pet anteater at one time, and there is a very famous photograph of him from 1969, taking it for a walk in the streets of Paris. I suspect that Dalí, who studied art in Madrid and was a staunch monarchist, was probably aware of the royal anteater, but I leave that question to those with greater knowledge than I currently possess.

Dali

And now, on to some art headlines.

Henri I in Haiti

Continuing in the, “Wow, I’ve never heard of that before,” vein, I was intrigued by this review in the Art Newspaper of a new book chronicling the architecture sponsored by Henri Christophe (1767-1820), a former African slave who, in 1811, was crowned King of Haiti. During his reign, Henri I built a number of massive buildings across the island, most of which have now disappeared. However, the ruins of his Sans-Souci Palace, shown below, are an extraordinary example of what he was able to accomplish on an architectural level in a comparatively brief period of time. This seems like quite a fascinating subject for armchair architectural historians such as this scrivener, and definitely worth exploring.

Haiti

Emerging in Edinburgh

In one of the stranger vicissitudes of history, an 18th century Anglican church in Edinburgh, which later became a Presbyterian church, before ending up as a Catholic Church about 150 years ago, is now undergoing a major art restoration project as a result of a significant discovery. As Bendor Grosvenor details here, when the Calvinists took over the building they whitewashed over the 1774 murals of the Ascension by Alexander Runciman (1736-1785) that decorated the walls, but Scottish art historian Duncan MacMillan had a hunch that the paintings were still there. Lo and behold, he was correct, and restoration work is currently underway. Some interesting links are embedded in this piece, but ignore the joke about Pope Clement VIII, since we should all thank His Holiness for endorsing the drinking of coffee.

Restore

Fascinating in Florence

The Uffizi Gallery, the most important art museum in Florence, has just released a terrific online resource for those interested in sculpture, archaeology, and architectural design. Indiana University here in the U.S. has been working with the museum to digitize its entire collection of Ancient Greek and Roman sculpture as 3D images, a project which the research team estimates that they will be able to complete by 2020. It’s already possible right now to see 3D scans of a number of objects owned by the Uffizi, such as this bust of the Emperor Caracalla, as well as a host of sculptures and architectural elements that are not currently on public view.

Caracalla

Art News Roundup: Better Late Than Never Edition

Forgive my delay in posting this week’s art news roundup, gentle reader, I was unavoidably detained yesterday. To make up for this, instead of my usual three curated bits of news from the world of art, architecture, design, and so on, I shall give you FIVE.

New Clues in New Mexico

In this absolutely fascinating story in the Post, reporter Antonia Farzan does her homework and digs deeply into the mystery of a stolen masterwork by Willem de Kooning (1904-1997), and the quiet, reserved couple that may have had something to do with its disappearance over 30 years ago. The twists and turns of the investigation are fascinating, but the real punch at the end is when you learn just how much money the couple had in their bank accounts when they died, and how photographs revealed that they had traveled to about 140 countries and all seven continents during their marriage: an achievement that, on its surface, would seem to be beyond the means of an ordinary pair of public school employees. This is a story begging for a good screenplay.

DeKooning

Coming Back to Canterbury

In one of the weird ironies of collecting history, an illuminated 13th century Bible which was once part of the library of Canterbury Cathedral has been purchased for roughly $128,000 by…Canterbury Cathedral. The “Lyghfield Bible” is a Medieval French volume which miraculously survived Henry VIII and the Reformation, when many Catholic books were simply burned or destroyed, and passed through the hands of a number of private owners before ending up on the auction block last month. It is the only Bible from the former library to have survived completely intact, and will be part of a new exhibition space at the cathedral detailing the history of the building (from a Protestant perspective, natch.)

Biblia

Lo Spagnoletto in London

The Baroque painter Josep de Ribera (1591-1652), often referred to as “Lo Spagnoletto” (“The Little Spaniard”) by other artists, was born and raised in Valencia, but made his career in Italy, particularly in the city of Naples, which was under Spanish rule during his lifetime. Ribera is one of the most important and influential painters of the first half of the 17th century, painting dark and brooding canvases that are often intense and stripped-down psychological studies, and so it surprises me to learn that an upcoming show titled “Ribera: Art of Violence” will be the first major exhibition of his work ever held in Britain. Ribera is not always easy to like, and his paintings of martyrdom, torture, drooling idiots and sideshow freaks are rather off-putting: you can certainly see why Goya, a century and a half later, was fascinated by his work. “Ribera” opens September 26th and runs through January 27th.

Ribera

Magnificence in Magnesia

The ancient Greek city of Magnesia, which today is part of modern Turkey, remained relatively unimportant in ancient history until it became a Roman colony around the 1st century BC. After it was virtually destroyed in an earthquake in the early 1st century AD, it was completely rebuilt on a luxurious scale by the Emperor Tiberius. Now an ongoing archaeological dig at the site of the Temple of Artemis in the city’s ruins has uncovered six magnificent, over-life-sized statues, bringing the total recovered thus far from the excavation to more than 50. Scientists believe there will still be many more to uncover, and as you can see here the works are very beautiful indeed.

Statues

Mockery in Manhattan

Moving on from the sublime to the ridiculous, New York has decided to grant landmark status to 550 Madison, a ridiculous pink skyscraper topped with a broken pediment designed by starchitect Philip Johnson (1906-2005) back in the late 1970’s. One should normally not speak ill of the dead of course, but as Mr. Johnson quite literally lived in a glass house, was an anti-Semite, a Nazi enthusiast, and loved to go on Charlie Rose long after this career was over and say terrible things about subjects which he did not in any way understand, I feel reasonably comfortable in laughing at the fact that anyone thinks that this particular monstrosity of his was worth preserving for the ages. As Hitler’s favorite architect, Albert Speer, once told art historian Robert Hughes in an interview, Johnson would have made a perfect architect for a fascist leader, since “Johnson understands what the small man thinks of as grandeur.”

Johnson