Elijah Blumofe

Museum Assignment: Look and Look Again

 

For this academic expedition, I traveled to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, wherein I decided to examine the works of Venetian Neo-Classical sculptor Antonio Canova. I made this decision for a myriad of reasons, foremost being that my middle name is Perseus, and perhaps Canova’s most famous work is his iconic “Perseus With the Head of Medusa”, a sculpture which has captured my imagination since childhood, and which my mother was fond of showing to me whenever she took me to the Met as a child. Furthermore, I find sculpture to be the most engaging visual artistic medium, and I am partial to Classical style, as well as Greek subjects.

I am delighted and inspired by idealistic depictions of the human body, and Canova, whose oeuvre consists almost entirely of Greek mythological characters, has these in spades. Looking at his work, it entrances me how he is able to capture the physical glory and emotional dynamism of a moment, even absent the dramatic poses and florid detail of his Baroque predecessors. This aura of intensity is especially present in “Perseus”, as well as another of his famous works, “Cupid and Psyche”. I was pleasantly surprised to see this latter piece, because although it was familiar to me, I hadn’t known previously that it was a Canova. This realization makes me suspect that my parents are enthusiasts of his, as my sister’s middle name is in fact, Psyche. Noting this, my relationship to Canova’s work quickly turned from mere piqued interest to embrace an element of the sentimental. After viewing other works, including the cocky “Paris”, the coy “Reclining Naiad” and the coquettish “Venus Italica”, it struck me not only the powerful sexual tension Canova was able to evoke with mere marble, but the emotional breadth of his work—Comparing the playfulness of any of these three aforementioned pieces with the forbidden love and dire infatuation exhibited in “Cupid and Psyche”, or the proud exhilaration of “Perseus”, it becomes clear that Canova cared deeply for storytelling, as well as presenting a variety of contexts to display a celebration of hot-blooded youthfulness. I left the Met with thoughts of gods and mortals, epic deeds, courageous bloodlust and slinking temptresses, both excited and informed by what I had seen. Such is, in my view, the proper and aspired to effect of Art.

 

In my research I was taken with the sheer prestige bestowed upon Canova—He is overwhelmingly seen as the finest artist of the Neoclassical school, and was often employed by the Vatican as well as the European high nobility (including Holy Roman Emperors and Napoleon) during his lifetime.  Reading about this, it strikes me how the profile of the visual artist has changed over the centuries. In our modern era, there are indeed artists of prestige, commissioned by the wealthy for great sums of money, but this prestige is confined to exclusive circles… cults of celebrity no longer seem to exist, at least on a massive scale.  There have been notable exceptions (Banksy, Warhol, Pollock, Basquiat), but where sculpture and traditional art is concerned, priority seems to have been all but extinguished.

Canova’s oeuvre contains a distinguishable number of tombs, cenotaphs and mausoleums, which I find to be of particular interest. To me, Death is perhaps the worthiest subject of art that exists. It’s apparent that Canova felt likewise, yet whether this was due to philosophical disposition or sacred duty I can only wonder. The culmination of this tendency was Canova’s magnum opus, the Tempio Canoviano church in Passagno, which was built dually to be a monument to the idea of Religion as well as his own museum/mausoleum. I have often fantasized about constructing my own mausoleum, and to see that someone actually has is fascinating to me. The presence of this prominent morbid track record gives me further respect and interest towards Canova and his work.

All in all, Canova’s dynamic interests in portraying both the vigorously alive and the somberly deceased, embracing serenity, lust, and violence, are synchronized mightily with my own artistic sensibilities. His cocktail assortment of religious fervor and mythological glory speaks to a man not only of prodigious talent, but also of noble and richly crafted vision.