Donald Trump's Tastes in Art

President Trump's favorite painting? This portrait was done by Ralph Wolfe Cowan in 1987. The left hand was purposely left unfinished by the artist for many years. Finally completed in 2002 for a price of $4,000, the original fee for the portrait was 24,000 (1987) dollars.

As the title indicates, I began writing this as an informative piece detailing our new president's tastes in art. It wasn't long before I began to realize that the man, for the most part, has no taste in art. I don't mean that as a snide comment at all, and you'll notice that I qualified that rather absolute statement with the words, "for the most part." Insofar as I can tell, he does have a liking for portraits (especially of himself), for 24K gold, for Louis XIV interiors, and plush surfaces. Beyond that, as with many married men (myself included), it's hard to divine precisely how much of their taste in the fine arts are truly their own and how much are, in fact, derives from that of their wives. In the case of Melania Trump, she has excellent, highly refined artistic tastes which, fortunately, seem to be a moderating influence as to those of her husband. Donald Trump can be lavish, brash, and frequently flamboyant, but, seldom, thanks to his wife, goes "over the top" to wallow in outright bad taste. In fact, if ;his recent redecorating of the Oval Office (below) is any indication, the Trump White House seems likely to be little changed, and quite restrained as to the usual personal adjustments in décor.

The Trump touch...Little of the new décor is really "new."
From the carpet to the drapes virtually all items have seen
use in previous administrations.

 



Designer Angelo Donghia

Quite apart from Melania Trump, much of Donald Trump's tastes in art, and especially interior design, derives from the influence of his long-ago friend, Angelo Donghia (left), known as "the Saint Laurent of sofas." Besides Trump, Donghia has designed for such A-list clients as Ralph Lauren, Barbara Walt-ers, Mary Tyler Moore, Liza Minelli, Neil Simon, and Diana Ross. He died in 1985 at the age fifty, at which time he was posthumously inducted into the Interior Design Hall of Fame. Unlike many hyperactive, entrepreneurial, bil-lionaire politicians, Donald Trump's tastes in art do not revolve around dé-corative media such as paintings, drawings, etchings, sculpture of any of the other art trinkets many of his peers pursue. Donald Trump collects archi-tecture. "The Donald," our Mr. Presi-dent, collects soaring glass and steel like Justin Bieber collects traffic tickets. In fact, you might ;say Trump has one of the most expensive art collections the world has ever known. His trademark "Trump Towers" (some of which he does not actually own) dot the urban landscape in major cities around the world. One can only wonder if his stint in the White House will slow down such acquisitions or rev them up (in the hands of his progeny, of course).

An urban status symbol or a black mark? Only time will
tell. (Some of these may be in various stages of
construction at the moment.)

There are those who wonder, given his lavish lifestyle, just how much time President Trump will actually spend living in the White House. Several presidents have had summer "white houses" in more desirable locations than 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Take a look at Trumps taste in domestic décor (below) and ask yourself, not where you would rather live (the White House or the Trump Tower) but where you think Trump would feel most at home. Will his Fifth Avenue high-rise see more use than the free government housing located in a crime-ridden neighborhood (to hear him tell it) of Washington, D.C.?

Lap of luxury: Donald and Melania Trump's New York City penthouse is on the 66th floor of Trump Tower and features marble walls, floors and columns throughout. 24-carat gold accents like platters, lamps, vases and crown moldings outline each room and with their tableau ceilings.

When it came to creating the ultimate luxurious home for the Trumps, Angelo Donghia kept Louis XIV in mind while picking furniture and textiles. Louis XIV led the absolute monarchy during France's classical age, ruling from 1643 until 1715, and was known for his aggressive foreign policy (sound familiar?). His political principles were not quite in line with democracy, as he ruled with complete control over the country and was known as The Sun King. Trump Tower was completed in 1983. It is home to not only the billionaire businessman but also to retail stores and other businesses. But the Louis XIV-style apartment is just one of Donald Trump's luxurious properties. His other larger-than-life mansion sits in the sunshine state. Mar-A-Lago sits on 80,000 square feet in ritzy Palm Beach, Florida. Trump purchased the estate for $5 million in 1985 and had the entire place renovated--all 58 bedrooms, 33 bathrooms, a 29-foot marble top dining table, and 12 fireplaces. There's also the Kluge Estate (below) near Charlottesville, Virginia, a 2,000 acre vineyard with a 23,000 square-foot mansion. He also owns approximately forty New York City penthouses of various sizes, a Colonial style mansion in Beverly Hills, California, a farm near Bedford, New York, not to mention a nine-bedroom beachfront villa called "Plum Bay" on the Caribbean island of St. Maarten.

Donald Trump can't claim much credit for the obvious good taste seen in his Albemarle (Kluge) Estate. He purchased it fully furnished from Kluge's bankrupt widow.

And then there are the jet aircraft. Having been besieged by media coverage of the Trump run for the White House last summer, we all know what the outside of the aging Boeing 757 looks like, but inside...it's not Louis XIV, but the Sun King would not feel at all uncomfortable as a guest. Once more, rich, dark woods, gold, and white dominate the overstuffed contours of the spacious cabin.

Lunch is served...usually KFC or other fast food on the campaign trail.

Like an abstract painting rife with escalators,
New York City's Trump Tower lobby is designed
to reflect the mega-tastes of its namesake.
 

Melania's Trump Tower office.

Coppo di Marcovaldo

The Last Judgment, 1265-70, Coppo di Marcovaldo, Florence,
the central figure gracing the dome of the San Giovanni Baptistery.

Very often when students today begin to studying art, they start with the notion (consciously or unconsciously) that the Italian Renaissance was where and when Western art began. There was even a time, when the British Pre-Raphaelites also considered the Renaissance to be where Western art ended as well (at least in their own narrow minds). Some art students are vaguely aware of Egyptian, Greek and Roman art but those eras are so long ago they tend to get locked in the back of their minds, shrouded in a foggy mist. For all intents and purposes, they consider Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael to be the first "real" artists in the history of art. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The Italian Renaissance did not simply "bloom" from nothing. Thus, those who teach high school art and college Art History 102 find themselves having to "flesh out" this all-important period with names such as Duccio, Cimabue, and Giotto. However, even that stellar cast is insufficient to explain fully the rise of the Italian Renaissance. We need to add the name, Coppo di Marcovaldo.

 

Crucifix in the Cathedral of Pistoia, 1274, Coppo di Marcovaldo.

If the name, Coppo di Marcovaldo, left you scratching your head and muttering, "Who?" That's to be expected. Few art history texts (and their profs) do much more than mention his name (if that). However, if the other three call up the same reaction, then by all means click on each name above and do your homework. Although Coppo was a contemporary of some these early painting masters, he was too obscure at the time to have been their instructor. He was, however, likely more than a mere acquaintance. Though his surviving works are few, there is little doubt he was a significant influence on all three.

 

Madonna del Bordone, ca. 1261, Coppo di Marcovaldo,
St. Maria dei Servi, Siena,  (central Italy).



Painting in Italy at the start of the 13th-century had two strains. The first was a long, evolutionary, medieval style having its roots in classical Roman antiquity. The second influence, was Byzantine, primarily in the form of mosaics, also an outgrowth of Roman antiquity but of the Eastern branch of the divided empire. By around 1250 or 1260, Byzantine mosaics were starting to spread to Italy, and more importantly, to influence painters. One of them, probably the most important of them all, was Coppo di Marcovaldo. Art historians consider him to be the first Italian painter to "marry" these two styles into a consistent style of his own, best exemplified in his Madonna del Bordone (above), ca. 1261.

Florence's San Giovanni Baptistery is located directly across the plaza from the Florence Cathedral (the Duomo). Built between 1059 and 1128,
it predates its "parent" structure by several hundred years.

If Coppo di Marcovaldo's significance rested only on a relative minor Madonna and child, or even his contribution to the Italian Renaissance painting style, he would likely deserve his place in relative obscurity. And though his firmly attributed works number less than a half-dozen, the reason we are so adamant in placing this man at the forefront of Early Renaissance painting stems from a work virtually every Florentine artist during, and long after, Coppo's fifty-one-year lifetime could not help but be influenced by--the glorious gold leaf mosaics of his Last Judgment, which dominating the dome (top) capping the San Giovanni Baptistery in Florence (above). This building, it would not be to grand to say, has long been considered the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance.

Plan of the mosaic dome : 1. Last Judgement (three sections by Coppo).  2. the lantern. 3. Choirs of Angels. 4. Stories from the Book of Genesis. 5. Stories of Joseph. 6. Stories of Mary and Christ. 7. Stories of St. John the Baptist.

Of course, the Florentine Baptistery is far better known for it three sets of cast bronze doors than its mosaic dome. The first set of doors, dating from 1329, were designed by Andrea Pisano. The second and third sets were designed by Lorenzo Ghiberti in 1401 and 1425. The eight-sided, ribbed dome was, by then, already famous, having been started about 1225 and completed sometime near the middle of the 14th-century. Coppo is credited with the three ribbed sections of the dome over the high altar.

Christ enthroned. Though a mosaic, there are many painterly
qualities to the gold leaf tiles (paint applied over the gold leaf.

This mosaic cycle depicts the Last Judgement with a gigantic, majestic Christ flanked by the Angels of Judgement on each side. The rewards of the saved leaving their tombs in joy are seen at Christ's right hand, while the punishments of the damned are depicted quite graphically at Christ's left hand. This last part is particularly famous as evil-doers are burnt by fire, roasted on spits, crushed with stones, bitten by snakes, gnawed, and chewed by hideous beasts (below).


One hell of a painting--Christianity rooted in fear.

Medieval Byzantine mosaics flavored
with Italian Renaissance painting.

 

Fireplace Architecture

With a view like this, the fireplace needs to be quite "eye-popping" to compete. This one gives a whole new meaning to the phrase,
"Dining around the fire."

I delight in writing about those areas of art in which I have some degree of experience. Usually that involves painting, drawing, art education, or art history. I also love writing about architecture and design, though in both cases my experience is a good deal more limited, more in the amateur realm than professional. In terms of design, I've planned and/or built a swimming pool, a waterfall, a retaining wall, and the home in which we live (most of those projects I've left to professionals to construct). Along that same line, in planning our home I designed two fireplaces, one separating our living and dining rooms, the other directly below it (and sharing the same chimney) in our family room. Keep in mind that both of these were designed some forty years ago although both were fairly contemporary for their time. Since then fireplaces have come a long way chiefly as the result of the introduction of natural gas and electric as fuel in lieu of wood. I should also add that both of our fireplace are chiefly decorative, used mostly on special occasions during the colder months when we have guests for dinner and want to warm the atmosphere a little. In hindsight, I wish they were gas or electric. In view of the convenience, we would undoubtedly use them more often.

This is a triple-sided fireplace which is designed to theoretically heat both rooms. In practice, most of the heat goes straight up the chimney.
The raised hearth is quite popular at family get-togethers, though.

Directly below this fireplace is a somewhat more traditional "stacked stone" fireplace in the family room. Both the marble facing (above) and the stone veneer (below) were added years later in place of the original (and much cheaper) Z-brick-over-concrete-block and brick construction. The marble tiles were placed professionally. The stacked stone my wife and I did ourselves. The basement fireplace includes Heatilator air distribution fans, which I highly recommend. Fireplaces, though they've been key architectural features for centuries, are not a very efficient method of heating.

The basement family room fireplace also features a raised
hearth. Bookshelves were designed flanking both sides to
structurally support the weight of the fireplace above.

In researching fireplaces I went in search of the oldest fireplace I could find. I could find little of any value. The problem was I was searching using the wrong term. Cavemen, of course, build bonfires, which, though they have a hearth, requires quite a stretch to be considered a fireplace as we know them today. Gradually, I came to the realization that the reason I could find little in the way of prehistoric fireplaces boiled down to the fact I was not using the right term. The earliest manmade fireplaces, were, in fact, altars. They were not designed for warmth nor, for the most part, cooking food (unless you were a biblical Levite).

Prehistorical altar of Monte d'Accoddi (Sardinia), 4000 to 3200 AD.
Though it bears little resemblance to traditional fireplaces, some of the more contemporary designs seen below seem inspired by its monolithic minimalism.

Despite it's origin in pagan and Jewish temples the fireplace, as we know it today, early in the history of man, became a fixture of the "kitchen" or whatever the ancestors of Wilma Flintstone called their food preparation area. In later ages it evolved into something akin to the upper image below. Then with the advent of the "modern-day" cast iron cook stove, the fireplace departed to the dining room and other less-congested environs. However, as the second image below suggests, some homeowners have found in their hearts (and budgets) to welcome a smaller, tightly contained version back into the kitchens.

Okay, it's not ideal for cooking (roasting hotdogs maybe), but the kitchen fireplace does bring back both the physical and emotional warmth of its early ancestor.

Despite their near legendary inefficiency in providing heat (as compared to modern central heating), the traditional fireplace continues to add visual and psychological value to homes. When combined with electric blower, even a wood-burning fireplace, while not necessarily cutting heating bills (have you priced kindling recently?), and having a tendency to be both dirty and high-maintenance (ashes don't magically disappear themselves), they possess a sort of conservative favoritism over gas and electric, especially, as seen below, if they have a mantel for knickknacks and dust.



The traditional fireplace (as to style). I'm not sure,
some of these may, in fact, be gas or electric.
It's hard to tell now days.



Okay, now that we have the traditional fireplaces out of the way, like it or not, everything seen from here on down is what I call "contemporary" though, indeed, some of them may be a tad more contemporary than others. Having said that, contemporary does not rule out firewood. It simply indicates a fresh, more stylish means of incinerating this time-consuming fuel. It might surprise you to realize that many wood-burning fireplaces today are made, all or in part, of wood. Though past generations might have considered such a trend as ludicrous, modern design and engineering makes them no more likely to catch fire than any other type of fireplace.

Not your "cup of tea?" Check out the ones below...and the one at the top.

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but the moment (or years) that gas and electric began to replace wood-burning fireplaces, designers suddenly came to realize that two of the greatest difficulties in designing contemporary fireplace had suddenly disappear. Neither gas nor electric required a chimney or even overhead venting. In the case of gas, a small, inconspicuous vent with a fan (sometimes even located below the firebox) was sufficient for removing Co2. Electric required not even that. Yet, with a little pyrotechnical ingenuity, both could produce a "flame" virtually indistinguishable from that of wood.

A fireplace for a coffee table? No problem.

One of the perpetual difficulties interior designers have faced ever since the first nine-inch, black-and-white TV invaded the living room was how to deal with two, quite diverse centers of interest--the "boob tube" and the fireplace. You couldn't set the TV on the hearth (unless you disabled the fireplace), and when it came to personal preferences, most people preferred watching Jack Benny do a "slow burn" than their fireplace. However with gas changing the nature of fireplaces and digital HD TV changing the nature of in-home entertainment, suddenly the TV became a friend of the fireplace. People could watch both at the same time by simply hanging the flat-screen monitor over, or near the fireplace. And if both were powered by electricity, the alliance became all the more harmonious. The only problem that sometimes arises is telling the TV from the fireplace.

Once more, I think these are all electric fireplaces but as before, it's sometimes hard to tell the difference, especially in photos.

Very often, contemporary, in the mind of designers, means Minimalism. Personally, I like the style, but I'm not sure I could live with it very long without adding a minimal amount of clutter, in effect, ruining the effect. It takes special kind of OCD individual to handle Minimalism on a daily basis (a place for everything and most everything out of sight and in its place). Be that as it may, if you think the warming glow of the items above are going a bit far, take a look at the really radical manifestations of the fireplace designers when given a free hand.

A fireplace in front of a glass wall? Just make it a see-through unit. The line between fireplaces and the old-fashioned gas heater can be "pretty," but also pretty thin.

Nothing like bathing before a roaring fire...

 

A is for Art

The first in a series exploring art and letters.

As a young boy growing up in a small town, the only person I knew who might even conceivably call himself an artist, was the local sign painter, a man named Kenny McCoy. As a picture-painter he wasn't much of an artist. But in terms of the ancient art of making letters and words "speak," he was considered to be one of the best. Today, few of his kind even exist, their art and craft long since usurped by the computer and various types of printed vinyl with adhesive backing. The quality isn't necessarily better though the computer/printer generated messages may be somewhat more archival and less prone to flaking or fading, especially on painted metal. In any case, I learned a great deal from this man about the power of signage and art in general.

 

The development of the letter "A" down through the ages.

The creation of letter shapes to signify spoken sounds, thus forming an alphabet, may be one of the oldest (or second oldest) types of art we know of today. As the chart above depicts, the vowel sound for "A" was first pictured as a bull, its horns forming the "legs" of what might appear to us as an upside-down letter "A." That was about five-thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries. Dwellers of the Sinai simplified the Egyptian hieroglyph somewhat, followed by the Phoenicians about 1,200 BC with the aleph. The Greeks, around 600 BC, called their version "alpha" (as in alpha-beta, to coin the term, alphabet), while the Romans, around 114 AD, made minor adjustments in the shape to create the modern-day "A." Given the fact it comes first in most alphabets, the letter and vocal sound connection may be the oldest of all such communicative devices.

The "A" in Make Poverty History.

Whether diamonds or
rhinestones, it's the thought
that counts. Right? Right?

Letters, regardless of their size and exact shape, are first and foremost designed to communicate. Size wise, they can range from the massive scale of the Make Poverty History team (above) seen erecting a giant letter "A," one of an enormous series of letters spelling out their slogan, which spreads over more than a hundred yards (100-meters). From there letters can be etched down to a microscopic detail, or set with diamonds. Regardless of size and the materials used, these letters, and most others, all have as their basis, the con-veyance of human thought in "written" forms. However, in the case of the letter "A," we also have a structural device (and a damned good one at that). It's no secret that the triangle is the strongest structural shape known to man. Used in multiples, or in combination with weaker shapes, we en-counter it so often we seldom give it much thought. Well, the letter "A" is simply a tri-angle with legs. Though somewhat weak-ened by the addition of legs, in practice, it makes the basic triangle much more practical in that it elevates its triangular shape to provide space for human occupancy underneath, as in the classic "A-frame" structure seen below.


We also see the structural applications of the "A" shape in items as common as street barricades, but also Gothic windows and...bookcases?

If the engineers love the "A" shape, artists likewise have long been fascinated with decorative attributes of this and virtually all letterforms. Artists have the added advantage of having two similar, yet different shapes to play with--upper and lower case. In the case of the letter "A," the differences are quite radical as seen below. Designers refer to such differences as "one-storey" and "two-storey." The lower-case "a" even has two versions--print and script.

The script version of the lower-case "a" can be seen just above.

As seen in the highly decorated pink "A" (above), the line between stylized letters and illustrated letters is exceedingly thin (sometimes all but nonexistent). We're all at least somewhat familiar with the monkish illustrated manuscripts of medieval times (below, upper row, center). Artists today, and for some years past, have taken such exquisite art to ever growing extremes as seen in some of the other examples below. For what they're worth, they do add an element of excitement and expression to what might otherwise be a boring text. The advent of corporate logos have also propelled both the stylized and illustrated letterforms to such creative heights. I have no doubt a lot of medieval monks are growing restless in their graves.

The images may change but the vocals remain the same.

"I'm Mr. A, and I thank you for
checking out my family tree.

 

Petrus Christus

Goldsmith in His Shop, 1449, Petrus Christus. The goldsmith is sometimes identified as St. Eligius, the patron saint of goldsmiths.

As artists, we take linear perspective for granted. Mastering such a highly logical lesson in draftsmanship is much the same as memorizing the periodic table for a physicist, or for a surgeon, cauterizing a bleeding blood vessel. Even the advent of digital drawing has hardly lessened the need for a basic understanding of the rendering of three-dimensional depth on a two-dimensional surface. We find it hard to imagine a time when artists knew little or nothing of such skills. Even during the 15th-century when, Early Renaissance artists began to suspect that rendering an illusion of depth in their work was governed by an interrelated set of rules, they tended to apply them more by instinct than understanding, and haphazardly at that. In fact, in some parts of Europe, "trial and error" perspective lingered well into the 17th-century.

Lamentation, c. 1455-60, Petrus Christus.

Around 1413 a contemporary of Ghiberti, Filippo Brunelleschi, demonstrated the geometrical method of perspective, used today by artists. For some years it remained kind of a Florentine "trade secret." Even the great Flemish painter, Jan van Eyck, was unable to create a consistent structure for the converging lines in paintings, as in his The Arnolfini Portrait. He was unaware of the theoretical breakthrough just then occurring in Italy. However he achieved very subtle effects by manipulations of scale in his interiors. Gradually, and partly through the development of art academies, the Italian techniques became part of the training of artists across Europe; and later other parts of the world. With the death of van Eyck in 1441, it is thought that an artist named Petrus Christus took over his master's workshop in Bruges, (now located in Belgium).

The Virgin and Child Enthroned with Saints Jerome
and Francis, 1458, Petrus Christus

Insofar as portraits were concerned, Christus was no van Eyck. His male heads in St. Eligius in His Workshop (top), show a penchant for rendering both eyes approximately identical in size and shape, thus distorting the shape of the cheekbones and upper part of the head (this error persists even today among amateur artists). It's unknown if Christus traveled to Italy at some point, or if linear perspective filtered north to his workshop, but Petrus Christus is credited by most art historians as having brought an understanding of the rules of perspective to the Netherlandish artists of the Northern Renaissance about 1450. It's hard to pinpoint an exact date for such a breakthrough, though we can see it suddenly appear in his works such as The Virgin and Child Enthroned with Saints Jerome and Francis, (above) which is said to date from 1458. Therein lies the problem. Such dates are very arbitrary.

Madonna and Child, ca. 1450, Petrus Christus

However, in Christus' Madonna and Child (above), which is believed to date from slightly earlier (around 1450), we see a rather complete demonstration of the rules of one-point perspective even in the oval rendering of round shapes (the window, arches, and chandelier). Just as perplexing, insofar as dates are concerned, is a Nativity by Christus (below) which may have been done as early as 1447.

Nativity, 1447, Petrus Christus. Recent restoration work has suggested Christus may have worked on the painting as late as 1460. The perspective is quite rudimentary which would tend to indicate the earlier date as to when it was begun.

The altarpiece (below) is said to date from 1452 (a probable third panel may be missing). In it, Christus employ's linear perspective only in the upper left panel depicting the Annunciation. Tracing the orthogonals in the painting reveals them to be inconsistent, at best, which would suggest that as of 1452 (if that date is accurate) Christus was still struggling with the rules.

(Left panel) Annunciation and Nativity, (right panel) The Last Judgement, 1452, Petrus Christus.

The problem in dealing with Petrus Christus comes down to the fact that he was an anonymous figure for several centuries, his importance not established until the work of modern art historians. Giorgio Vasari barely mentions him in his biographies of painters, written during the Renaissance, while near contemporary records merely list him among many other Netherlandish artists. In fact the first firm date associated with Christus is 1844 when he purchases his citizenship in Bruges so he might work there as an artist. Long seen only in his predecessor's shadow, more recent indications are that he was an independent painter whose work shows as much influence from, Dirk Bouts, Robert Campin and Rogier van der Weyden. Even Christus' date of birth is uncertain (1410 to 1420). He died in 1473...or 1476.

Portrait of a Young Girl, ca. 1470, Petrus Christus.
The stamp dates from 1974.

-------------------------------
More on Petrus Christus by art historian, Dr. Vida Hull.

Warning: This may be more than you really want to know about the man, the video is over an hour long.

February Paintings

February Stillness, Nikolai Anokhin

February, Olga Vorobiova

A month ago, January 1, 2017, I began a series of twelve posts highlighting paintings which represent a particular month of the year. Each month has a stereotype. In some ways that's good in that it provides a basic structure upon which to hang the visual adornments of that month. However, every artists should strive to break somewhat from stereotypes by presenting either unique representat-ions of them, or exceptionally high quality depictions based upon them. February Stillness (above) by the Russian painter, Nikolai Anokhin, is one of the latter. Nobody paints winter scenes like the Russians (of course, they have a lot of winter to paint). Olga Vorobiova (left, another Russian painter, I think) takes on the more difficult task of presenting February in a manner which relates to the stereotype but manages to do so in a fresh manner--the feline wishing it were outside to pursue the bird while the bird, despite the cat, envies the warmth of an indoors.

 

February, Fill Dyke, 1881, Benjamin Williams Leader

 

February, Très riches heures,
(Very Rich Hours), Limbourg Brothers

The French Limbourg Brothers were probably the first to paint the month of February (left). They were illustrating a year-long prayer book for the nob-leman, John, Duke of Berry, between the years 1412 and 1416. When the three painters and their sponsor died in 1416, (possibly victims of plague), the manuscript was left unfinished. Titled Très Riches Heures, (Very Rich Hours) it consisting of a total of 206 leaves of very fine quality parchment, and included 66 large miniature illustrations and 65 small ones. The British landscape painter has captured the month of February both visually and in his title, February, Fill Dyke which refers to the characteristics of the weather, which gives the epithet of “fill dyke” to the month of February in depicting the overflowing ponds, splashy roads, and the pale, streaked evening sky. The title of the painting comes from an old country rhyme:

 

 

 

February fill the dyke,

Be it black or be it white;

But if it be white,

It’s the better to like.

Another February stereotype, much more difficult to handle in any way approaching a fresh manner, sf February 14th--Valentines Day. In most cases what we get are all manner of hearts and flowers (good, bad, and ugly). Perhaps one of the few contemporary painters who managed to avoid, or overcome the pitfalls of this holiday was the Pop Artist (educated at my alma mater, Ohio University), Jim Dine. Dine, rather than avoiding the ubiquitous heart shape, wholeheartedly embraced it in numerous works such as the one seen below (I could find no title for it). Yet, even he soon found it becoming tiresome and passé. He abandoned such works of the heart in the 1970s.

 

The bleeding heart--Dine bled it for all it was worth.

Notwithstanding Jim Dine's hearts, the quintessential February painter would have to be the American regionalist artist, Grant Wood. Not only was he born in February (13th, 1891) but he also died on the same date in 1942. Moreover, his Parson Weems' Fable (below) takes note of the father of our country, George Washington (born on February 22, 1732) and his fabled cherry tree. Few presidents since have had such legendary truthfulness as a part of their legacy.

One legend depicting another.

Speaking of presidents, February is also the month we "celebrate" Presidents Day. It's not a painting but a Photoshop creation I put together for another topic a year or so ago, but the image of Mt. Rushmore with an additional eighteen carved presidential visages seemed appropriate for reposting. The caption says it all.

Copyright, Jim Lane

As a former elementary art instructor, this
is much more in keeping with my thoughts
regarding February art.