Author Archives: Ryan Anthony Mellino

Ryan Mellino – Mozart

Somehow I doubt that the man needs much introduction, but anyway. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is perhaps the most famous composer in the history of music. He wrote countless masterpieces from a very young age, and time has proven him to be one of the most outstanding talents in human history. Mozart lived the short, rather painful life so common in the eighteenth century, dying in only his thirty-fifth year, yet the contributions he made to the human portrait will last a hundred times longer.

For all of his undeniable talent, Mozart was caught up in his own beautiful world too often to live a happy and peaceful life in this cold reality. A predominant theme in Mozart’s letters is his perpetual debt. His letters to Michael Puchberg are no more than Mozart begging his friend for money. Clearly, the struggling artist trope is in full evidence here. Despite working for some of the most powerful members of the nobility, Mozart’s fanciful nature prevented him from ever achieving the sort of financial and personal stability of a Bach, for instance. His letters to Puchberg border on (and indeed likely cross the line) into groveling, as he continually apologizes for failing to repay previous debts while simultaneously asking for more money and insuring Puchberg that his character and morals should leave him with no doubt that the money will be repaid.

However, it is quite evident that Mozart is not simply preying on the kindness of others to make up for his own shortcomings. There is no hint of malice, no indication that Mozart is using Puchberg. Indeed, the writing style employed by Mozart in all his letters is of an excessively conciliatory nature which cannot be seen as a put on, but as a genuine reflection of Mozart’s personality. His letters all open with “Dearest Friend” or something to that effect, and end with “Faithfully yours” or something similar. In between, Mozart writes in the same graceful and flowing style that one might expect after listening to his compositions. Even when he is upset with someone, as he is shown to be in his letter to his sister after she neglected to inform him of their father’s death, Mozart still chooses his words in a very dainty manner.

Speaking of dainty, Mozart’s letters to his wife must be some of the most hopelessly romantic pieces of writing ever put to paper. Often calling her his “little” or “littlest wife”, Mozart must have truly loved her or been truly a bit insane, as his letters show someone so infatuated with a woman as to lead me to believe he viewed her as an ideal more than anything. The artist must often latch onto to something for inspiration, and it seems Mozart certainly found that in his wife. His letters to her are gooey and sappy, yet blatantly honest. One at no time doubts Mozart when he talks about “all the things I do with your dear portrait” or sends his wife “a thousand kisses” with complete sincerity. It is also interesting that Mozart often sends along his well wishes to his children is a postscript; it is not clear if this is because he is forgetful, was too focused on the topic at hand (how much he really really loves his wife), or if perhaps he wanted his children to see they had their own part of the letter from him. In any event, it is interesting to see that, as with Wagner, Mozart’s personality as evidenced through his writing was reflected so closely in his music.

A man so famous, that his first, middle, and last names are irrevocably associated with him, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart has rightfully gone down in history as one of the greatest artists in human history. His own writing show a man very much like his music: impassioned, sweet and beautiful, yet removed from reality. For all his financial woes, Mozart was still able to compose hundreds of pieces whose fame and beauty survives through the present day.

Looking at Art – Ryan Mellino

It’s all a matter of perspective. In Alice Chase’s book “Looking at Art”, she analyzes how artists of different time periods viewed their art. Specifically, in this essay discussion will center on two chapters, “The Artist Look at the View” and “The Artist Looks at People and Space. Chase uses many examples to illustrate her point, with the book being full of pictures of artwork. In this way the reader can more accurately see what the artist sees, and thus, the art.

In the third chapter of “Looking at Art”, entitled “The Artist Looks at the View”, Chase analyzes how different artists in different time periods tried to accurately illustrate and use landscapes. She starts by briefly outlining the challenges of drawing scenery, before delving into ancient Egyptian and Assyrian paintings. These peoples drew things in profile, with Chase stating that the scenes were “a kind of map”. Skipping past the Greeks, the Romans used fanciful, imagined landscapes to further whatever point they were trying to get across. Jumping to the East, the Chinese believed landscapes held great importance because they “suggested both the moods of man and the infinity of God”. The Chinese would use different types of brushstrokes to illustrate elements of the landscape in order to differentiate between them. The medieval period is not discussed in any detail, and as the Italian painters of the early Renaissance used landscape mainly as a setting for the main figures and story of the painting, the Dutch are the next culture illuminated. The Dutch and Flemish artists often put their stories off to the sides of their paintings, as in Pieter Bruegel’s “Death of Saul at the Battle of Gilboa”, where Saul and his son’s suicides are placed in the bottom-left of the page as the battle rages through the middle. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, drawing landscapes became more popular, and the Dutch once again were the main proponents. A certain style evolved, using “modification of tones” to draw what were often “brownish landscapes”. In the nineteenth century, it became vogue in Britain for “gentlemen to order paintings of their country estates”, and here more interesting and brighter colors began to be used. This translated across the ocean to America, where landscapes were often painting not only factually, but in a manner that would convey “bigness, distance, fertility”. As time wore on and painting grew more and more realistic, some artists such as van Gogh came to view art as a representation of the artists’ “thoughts and feelings”.

In the following chapter, entitled “The Artist Looks at People and Space”, Chase analyzes how artists throughout history have attempted to draw people and things in a more realistic perspective. Once again starting with the ancient Egyptians, Chase states that they “made the human figure into a sort of map”. This allowed the Egyptians to show what was happening, but not with any sort of realism. The Assyrians also drew people in profile, as did the Greeks, although “by the fifth century B.C. bodies had started being drawn to indicate the third dimension”. Italian paintings form the last centuries B.C. show a use of shadows for the first time, although there is evidence this was derived from earlier Greek works. Once again moving ahead to the Renaissance, the issues of perspective and foreshortening became important, as artists desired to draw in a more realistic manner. Through the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, artists rapidly improved their abilities, with “the ceiling of the Church of St. Ignazio” being an example of “superb technical skill”. Meanwhile, in the Far East, the Chinese and Japanese used an isometric perspective. This method has no vanishing point, and is used by “the Western world to show the structure of a building”. Chase concludes by stating that there is no right or wrong way to use perspectives, as different types are useful for different things.

The Adoration of the Magi

DT3

Hark! Where lies a foreign star,
Whose pull mere men cannot resist.
Away, away, the time has come,
Let us leave now with kingly gifts.

For many miles we travelled on,
The star our ever-guiding light.
Though even wise men can know fear,
There was no darkness in deepest night.

A blessed day, a divine day,
When holy Bethlehem came to view.
Though we be kings, we learned to kneel,
For one who God had chose to rule.

He lay in a stable as we approached,
With mother Mary looking on.
And as we came to journey’s end,
The angels played a heavenly song.

He kept the company of goats and lambs,
A king for all, the high and low.
But now for gifts, we pay our dues,
With frankincense, myrrh, and heavy gold.

And now the moment had arrived,
My crown came off, I fell to my knees.
And held the saviour of all mankind,
Through whose eyes our God does see.

Though blessed Mary bore some concern,
How could I ever mean to harm,
The king of men, the saviour of men,
Whose grace I now held in my arms.

We three Magi showed our respects,
And left with hearts so filled with love.
Though kings may try and kill the Lord,
We all will live with God above.

– Ryan Mellino