An Allegory of Music; and An Allegory of Painting, with a portrait of the artist on an easel. Francesco Trevisani (Italian, 1656-1746). Oil on canvas.
According to the eighteenth century biographer, Nicola Pio: “no one could equal his ability for embellishing the pictures with costly dress and accessories all painted in the most realistic and lively manner possible.”
The Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, commonly referred to as the Sagrada Família, is a monumental Catholic church in Barcelona. Infamous for its long construction and renowned for its aethereal interior design, the Sagrada Família has been in construction since 1882, with Antoni Gaudí taking over the project in 1883. It is estimated to be finished in 2026, the centenary of Gaudí’s death. The church is a prime example of Allegorical Architecture, as many facets of the design are representative of the central religious theme and message.
The Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, commonly referred to as the Sagrada Família, is a monumental Catholic church in Barcelona. Infamous for its long construction and renowned for its aethereal interior design, the Sagrada Família has been in construction since 1882, with Antoni Gaudí taking over the project in 1883. It is estimated to be finished in 2026, the centenary of Gaudí’s death. The church is a prime example of Allegorical Architecture, as many facets of the design are representative of the central religious theme and message.
The state of construction in 1905
The state of construction in 1915
The state of construction in 1930
The architectural design of the church has split observers over its school, with various definitions such as ‘Art Nouveau’, ‘Catalan Modernist’, and Spanish Late Gothic’ all used to define its appearance. The church is planned to have three façades: Nativity (East), Passion (West), and Glory (South; unfinished).
The Façades
Nativity
The Nativity façade is an intricate and organic sculptured bas-relief representation of the birth and life of Christ, rich in visual symbolism and facing East to receive the rising sun, as allegory for the birth.
Passion
The Passion façade stands in sharp contrast to Nativity, with an angular, clinical and plain appearance meant to represent bones and skeletons. The façade pays homage to the suffering of Christ during his crucifixion and the Sins of Mankind. Facing west to look over the setting sun, the cardinal direction represents the death of Christ. Above the entranceway and pyramidal pediment stand four steeples, one of each of the Four Evangelists and part of a series of eighteen spires for the Twelve Apostles, Four Evangelists, the Virgin Mary, and at the greatest height, Jesus Christ.
The Interior
The interior of the Sagrada Família takes the form of a traditional Latin Cruciform church, however the decorative architecture assaults the viewer with an ever-changing and eerily otherworldly atmosphere. Many references to the Christian faith and the life of Christ dwell within its halls, expressed through a naturalistic pseudo-Cubist format that defies clear categorisation.
Illuminated cartouches of the Four Evangelists emblazoned with the iconography that represent them.
The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ beneath a canopy inscribed with religious text
A transept lined with columns leading to an array of iconographic stained glass windows
The decorated vaulted ceiling
A linear engraving of the Alpha and Omega, representing birth and death or the beginning and the end as penned in Revelation 1:8 and a common phrase throughout the escatological text.
A wealthy woman sits amid an Arcadian scene, visible in the vista over her shoulder and the classical sculpturary around her. Her wealth is obvious in her appearance; she is clad in bright silks and her hair is decorated with feathers. She holds a balance scale; into one bowl she places valuable jewelery and pearls, more objects associated with wealth. Despite how many riches are loaded in, it is not enough to shift the balance from the small bird sitting in the other bowl. The scale shows the wealthy woman that life is always more valuable than any gold or jewels, a fact the figures does not reject but accepts with a soft smile. She is virtuous even amid luxury, and reflects on how life is more precious than any stone or pearl.
The personification of patience is plainly dressed and looks wistfully off canvas, her wrists shackled and chained to the rough-hewn stone before her. Patience cannot spring into action on the slightest whim, as she is weighed down by the stone, however with enough work and a slowed pace she can more it. Carved into the stone is the year and initials of the artist.
In a imagined monumental temple or cathedal, the titular monument to Newton takes up the central point of the composition. A beam of light emanates from a circular, dish like feature within the architrave of a colonnaded alcove, passes through a flaming entity held aloft by the hooded standing figure in the neoclassical sculpture in the center, and seems to be bent through a lens before striking a prism. The light is then scattered to reveal the spectrum, just as it did during Newton’s famous experiment this visual motif symbolises. Around the hall stand classical and recognisable figures associated with learning, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and many more. Objects such a globe, framing squares, an armillary sphere, and texts on geometry contribute to an atmosphere of learning and investigation that likens the fictional chamber to a room in the famed College of Athens. The artist places Isaac Newton among the pantheon of Natural Philosophers. The inclusion of the large sculpted urn in the alcove suggests this may be more a memorial than a monument, the urn being a typical motif found on memorials to the deceased as well as acting as another connection to Antiquity.
Painted in the throes of the French Revolution, Vallain paints a personification of Liberty surrounded by the symbols that accompany it. Liberty herself sits on a stone from a classical ruin and is dressed in classical attire, providing the viewer with a connection to the republics of Antiquity. In her right hand she holds a pair of unfurled scrolls, the foremost document appears to be the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen, a key document of the French Revolution composed by the French National Assembly in 1789. In her left hand she holds a staff topped with a Phrygian Cap, also known as a liberty cap due to its confusion by historians with the pileus caps worn by emancipated slaves in the days of ancient Rome. Behind the scrolls is the fasces, a visual metaphor for collective power dating back to the ancient Etruscan civilisation and later co-opted by ancient Rome to represent magisterial jurisdiction. At her feet lie the broken chains of oppression, and a discarded crown representing the recently overthrown monarchy. Behind her stands what appears to be the Pyramid of Cestius, a monumental tomb for Gaius Cestius Epulo in Rome upon the side of which an inscription describes Cestius as a praetor and tribune of the people, likely symbolising civic duty and the representation of the mass populace in political office.
In this portrait of the formidable monarch of England, Elizabeth I appears gaunt and weary, resting her head on one hand and holding a small book in the other, possible a prayer book. Behind her to the left is Father Time, asleep with his hourglass broken before him; time is up for the queen. To the right appears Death, or possibly a representation of Vanitas (a popular theme at the time), holding an hourglass. It is not Father Time who controls the hour now, but Death. Two cherubs lift the crown from the monarch’s head, representing how in death her title is lost and she becomes just another departed soul.
ter Brugghen depicts the four Evangelists focused on their writings in dark austere rooms, each clad in a different colour and with the symbolic animal associated with them. In clockwise order:
John (green) - Represented with an eagle, figurative for the sky, owing to his writings on the ascension and Divine nature of Christ
Luke (blue) - Represented with an ox or bull, figurative of sacrifice and strength, owing to his writings on the Passion and the Crucifixion
Matthew (yellow) - Represented with an angel, figurative of salvation in a human form, owing to his writings on Christ’s genealogy from Abraham and his Incarnation as a human on Earth
Mark (red) - Represented with a lion, figurative of courage and monarchy, owing to his writing on the subject of Christ as king as well as his resurrection due to the common conception at the time that lions sleep with open eyes, just as Christ did in his tomb.
In this pair of portraits, Brugghen juxtaposes two classical philosophers with polar opposite perspectives. Democritus was know as The Laughing Philosopher owing to his emphasis on the value of cheerfulness and optimism, while Heraclitus was called The Weeping Philosopher due to his fears over the heedless unconsciousness of Humanity and his own personal anxiety and pessimism. These views are expressed in the poses of the two figures: where Heraclitus rests his head wearily on his hand with his face turned away and cast in shadow save for the glint of two tears, Democritus leans convivially towards the viewer whilst grinning and pointing to someone or something off canvas. Both men rest an arm upon a globe, showing how their pose relates to their view on the world.
An Allegory of Victory. Jules Joseph Lefebvre (French, 1836-1912). Oil on canvas.
The allegorical figure has strength in her gaze, wears laurel leaves as a crown, and hold a flowered staff, all of which are attributes of Victory. Her light clothing on the upper body is itself emblematic, hinting at the life and fruitfulness which follows Victory.
This enigmatic scene has eluded interpretation for almost four centuries, and theories still divide observers. The tableaux is one of a featureless room full of people. An elderly man sits at a desk laden with books, seemingly in conversation with a female figure stood next to him who appears to have removed her mask: it lies disregarded in her hand with her fingers through the open eyes. Behind the bearded, almost classical figure a young individual, possible female, holds a mask above the man’s head as they smile at the viewer. The mask sports a red mustache and small beard, perhaps a younger version of the seated man. In the distant background, a figure in a turban who’s mask hosts a long black beard looks out at the viewer. At the far right, a man holding a flask wrapped in cloth under his arm and a book or purse in his other hand stares into an unseen middle distance.
The exact meaning behind Vliet’s work is unknown, and it is not certain that the scene is meant as allegory. Some posit that the central figure is a Philosopher removing the guises of various subjects and mysteries using the knowledge he has gleaned from his books, with the mask held secretly above his head potentially implying that he has yet to discover his own true nature. He has not removed his own mask, and perhaps the only topic the learned cannot dissect is of their own nature.
Others say the seated man in an author or playwright interacting with his characters, the mask being a typical symbol of theatrical performances. Perhaps the God-like appearance of the elderly man shows he is the creator and the scene is his story, yet he is accosted by one of his creations while another mocks him from behind.
Still more take a literal interpretation, postulating that there is no deeper meaning to the work and this is a simply a genre painting of a playwright talking to a troupe of actors and actresses, advising them on their roles.
It is unlikely that we will ever know the true motivation and meaning behind this painting, and theories will circle endlessly with no final conclusion as to what lies behind the mask.
Erin, the nationalist personification of Ireland as distinct from the caricature ‘Hibernia’ used in anti-Nationalist iconography, plays her harp even amid the rising and hostile ocean around her rocky perch. She is mantled by a green cloth, the symbolic colour of Ireland, and is chained to the rock, emblematic of her imprisonment under English rule. Although her situation seems dire amid the storm, she is illuminated by the bright light of hope for her future emancipation and a yearning to be freed from the shackles that imperil her.
The figure of Syllogism, a type of argument based on deductive reasoning, looks at the viewer with the stern countenance of the logical. She wears no finery and her clothes are simple: Syllogism requires no linguistic flourishes, only concise brevity with no ambiguity. Around her exposed wrist a snake is coiled.
In this scene, personifications of the four seasons of the year pose behind a table laden with food, the fruits of the yearly cycle. Spring and Summer are seen courting: Summer wearing a floral garland plays a lute while Spring wearing a crown of leaves kisses her amorously with a hand around her back. Autumn with a ear of wheat in her hair looks at the viewer and pulls away from the pair, leaning upon the arm of Spring even as she breaks away from his embrace. Behind the triad, an elderly Winter in a fur hat and wrapped in a cloak against the cold watches on: the barren and desolate season is not involved in the romance, but his arrival is inevitable.
The four figures make an anti-clockwise cycle, each one leads into another and makes up the natural year by which all people must live.
In a testament to the vain futility of greed, the central figure of this painting is oblivious to the inevitability of his fate. The aged man holds a pouch of money, upon which the date of the painting is inscribed, and wears a golden chain beneath his white undershirt. The chain is hidden away from the viewer, the wealth is only for miser who wears it. In a large wooden chest, more gold and silver coins can be seen: the miser is wealthy but does not spend or donate his money. Behind the miser, a skeleton symbolic of unavoidable death looms from the dingy background. The miser can cling to his wealth, but ultimately it will not save him from the grave.
In this scene a young Orangist, a supporter of William III of the House of Orange as denoted by the orange feather, looks at the viewer while holding a drawn image before the eyes of a Regent, a rank of civic governance in the Dutch Republic associated with cities and citizen organisations. The Regent appears wearing a crumpled nightcap; he has been sleeping and therefore blind to the French threat to the Republic, a threat the Orangist has known and could have averted. On the drawing the Lion of the Dutch Republic appears moribund on the ground aside a broken sword, symbolic of military defeat. The lion’s enclosure, the visual motif of the ‘Hollandic Yard’ was typical in the Netherlands as symbolic of the protected and safe lands of the Dutch Republic, has been broken into; the invader has beaten down the door and brought the once fierce animal to its knees. Above this bleak image, the French rooster crows in triumph atop the escutcheon of France, flanked by four more arrows. The seven arrows represent the seven provinces of the Netherlands. A few bars of music are penciled below.
Painted as a allegory for the Rampjaar, or Disaster Year, the dire straits of the young Republic are shown before the view, a wound that only the leadership of the King can heal. Visible beneath the fashionable blue ‘slit sleeve’ doublet of the Regent is a hint of orange silk. Perhaps the Regent is convinced by the Orangist and his true colours are shining through.
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