Piss-prophets

Reproduction of "A Doctor Examining Urine" by Trophime Bigot (1579-1649/50)

 Reproduction of "The Urine Examination" by Joos van Craesbeeck (c. 1605/06– c.1660)

"The Doctor's Visit" by Jan Steen (1658-1662)

The expression "piss-prophet" was 1st used in print in the 17th c., during which the images above were originally painted. It referred to a physician who diagnosed illness by inspecting a patient's urine. The inspection could be visual, or the doctor could employ the other senses. It was English physician Thomas Willis (1621-1675) who was the 1st to observe that the urine of those later termed diabetics tasted "wonderfully sweet as if it were imbued with honey or sugar." The urine was swirled around in (and sipped from) a matula, a round-bottomed flask made out of clear glass whose shape approximated that of the human bladder. Uroscopy was very much in vogue at the time, although it had been relied on for centuries. Hippocrates (460-377 B.C.) had noticed that fever changes the smell of a patient's urine and Galen (131-201 A.D.) stated that evaluating the urine was the best way to see whether or not the body's 4 humours (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile) were in balance. "Due to the influence of Arabian teachings, the uroscopy eventually became an important part of medical diagnosis in the Middle Ages. Indeed, looking at the urine of a patient, inspecting the quantity and quality, the smell, taste, colour and cloudiness of it became such an important task of the medieval doctor that he is usually depicted with the uroscopy flask in art," writes blogger Sandra Schwab. In addition to being used to diagnose illness, these means were also used to determine pregnancy. A 1552 text cited by RandomHistory.com described the pee of pregnant women as “clear pale lemon color leaning toward off-white, having a cloud on its surface.” In subsequent centuries more empirical methods like chemistry replaced the old "swirl-and-taste" methods. The urologist or nephrologist replaced the outdated "piss-prophet" and the word came to mean a quack.

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Plenty of past posts about paintings:

Magritte's mermaid

Giverny

American Gothic

Arnolfini wedding portrait

Scullery maids

Portrait of Queen Elizabeth I

Pig butchering

Rene Magritte

Maps featured in paintings

Dissection paintings

The art of David Teniers the Younger

Emile Friant

Diagnosing the canvas

Vanitas paintings

Giuseppe Arcimboldo

The Raft of the Medusa

Brothers

Gabrielle d'Estrées

Soils spoils

Now and then I find the booking photo of an arrestee striking enough to be featured in Quigley's Cabinet (see Heads and Catching a bear) - but only if the associated story is sufficiently blogworthy. Meet 36-year-old Denver resident Carmen Lucette Tisch (1st image). What does she have to do with influential American abstract expressionist Clyfford Still (1904-1980), pictured in his New York studio (2nd image)? Read on...

"1949-A-No. 1"
This 1949 painting by Clyfford Still was sold by Sotheby’s on Nov. 9, 2011, at an auction to benefit the new Clyfford Still Museum, which has 825 of the artist's works in its collection. The winning bid by telephone for $61.7 million soared past its $35 million high estimate and eclipsed the artist's prior auction record of $21.2 million.

"1947-Y-No. 2"
Painted by Still in 1947 and priced to sell for up to $20 million, this canvas also sold to a telephone bidder at the same auction for $31.4 million. The premium value of these works by a leader of the abstract expressionist movement is said to lie in the fact that only 11 of Clyfford Still's paintings have come up for auction over the past decade.

"PH-1033''
Minutes after buying "1949-A-No. 1," the telephone bidder paid another $19.6 million for this 1976 Still painting which had only been expected to fetch up to $15 million. Altogether, the auction raised a total of $114.1 million for the endowment of the museum, established by the City of Denver under the terms of the artist's will.

"1957-J-No. 2"
This painting by Still, which measures nearly 9 1/2' x 13' and is appraised at $30-40 million, was hanging in the museum until late December. That's when an apparently drunk Tisch caused $10,000 worth of damage to it by punching it, scratching it, and lowering her pants to rub her bare buttocks on it.

Tisch, arrested at the time of the incident and held on bond, has now been charged with felony criminal mischief. It's unclear if this was an act of protest and whether it was inspired by the Occupy movement, members of whom demonstrated against economic inequality outside Sotheby's in New York at the time the Still paintings were being auctioned. Also unclear is whether the vandalism will damage the piece more than just physically or whether - ironically - it will add to its value as the incident become's part of the painting's history.

Trompe l'œil

trompe l'œil, n. /trɔ̃p lœj/
Also trompe-l'œil, erron. trompe-d'œil. [French, lit. ‘deceives the eye’]
Deception of the eye, an illusion, spec. in Art with regard to the material reality of the object(s) represented, a (usu. still-life) painting, plaster ornament, etc., intended to give an illusion of reality. Also fig. and attrib. passing into adj.

Each of these images meets the definition of "trompe l'oeil" above, and they are both examples of vanitas art. But they are very different. Not only were they created more than 400 years apart, one is a painting that looks like a photograph and the other is a photograph that looks like a painting! Have another look and read on...

1st image) "Vanitas," Simon Renard de Saint-André, c. 1662, oil on canvas.
Renard was a 17th c. French painter and copperplate engraver known for his vanitas paintings (more here), as was Harmen Steenwijck, Willem Claesz, and Bartholomäus Bruyn.

2nd image) "Le cabinet de l'astronome," Guido Mocafico, 2007, photograph. Mocafico, of Italian descent, was born in Switzerland in 1962 and lives in Paris. He specializes in still life, exploring aesthetic and scientific themes in nature, and does commercial work for magazines including Vogue and companies including Gucci, Dior, and Clinique. I first came across his work not from flipping through a fashion magazine, but seeing one of his jewel-like snake photos in National Geographic and using it to illustrate this post. The artist says of his still lifes (more here), "The day someone looking at my pictures asked me why I had photographed paintings, I knew my goal – illusion – had been achieved."

Brothers

Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890) was lucky to have a sibling to look after him, since the Dutch painter suffered from depression most of his life and had alienated much of his family. Theo van Gogh (1857-1891) supported his older brother financially and otherwise. Until this summer, it was believed that Vincent had only sketched Theo, although he completed dozens of self-portraits throughout his life. "People have often thought it was funny that there were no portraits of Theo, given that they were so close," said Linda Snoek of Amsterdam's Vincent van Gogh Museum. As it turns out, Vincent did paint his brother - and the museum had the work in storage. Similar to a self-portrait by Vincent in a suit and hat against a blue background (bottom left), the painting of Theo (bottom right) was made in 1887 when the pair lived together in Paris. The misattribution is due in part to the fact that much of what is known about Vincent's life is through the letters he sent to Theo when they were apart. Putting the oil paintings side by side (framed and uncropped images here) suggested that they - like the van Gogh brothers themselves - were a pair. "'They are two small, detailed portraits that when you see them you think: they belong together," observes van Tilborgh. The brothers had a remarkable resemblance (1st image, Vincent and Theo as young men), but the curator bolstered his opinion by comparing the subtle physical differences:

• Theo's ears were rounder than Vincent's long, angular ears, as portrayed by other artists*
• Their eye color differed
• Theo's goatee is more ochre than Vincent's dark red beard
• Theo had shaven cheeks, consistent with photographs of him from the same period, contrasting with Vincent's mutton-chop sideburns

The portraits of the brothers, who are buried together, now hang as a matched pair.

*The paintings precede Vincent's self-mutilation of his ear in December 1888.

Gabrielle d'Estrées

The image of this picture flashed in my mind last night and it daawned on me that I had never wondered about its origins or sought out the reason for this curious gesture. Well, here are the answers - for you and me both...

The subjects are Gabrielle d'Estrées (on our right) and her sister (doing the pinching). The artist of the painting is unknown, but it dates from the Fontainbleau school c. 1595. It is entitled - sensibly enough - "Gabrielle d'Estrees and One of Her Sisters in the Bath." The oil on wood panel (96 x 125cm) is on display at the Louvre. Gabrielle d'Estrees (1573-1599) was the mistress of Henry IV of France (1553-1610), and this painting was full of symbols, as decoded by art historians (listen here):

• Gabrielle's sister is pinching her nipple, the source of the new mother's milk, indicating she is pregnant with the king's child. In fact, the painting anticipates the birth of her 1st child with Henry IV, César de Bourbon (1594-1665). She would go on to have 2 more children (b. 1596 and 1598) by him.
  
• In her left hand Gabrielle holds the King's coronation ring, which he actually gave to her several years later in 1599 as a sign of their bond and intended betrothal - just days before she died giving birth a 4th time to a stillborn child.
  
• The love between the king and his mistress is expressed by the painting of an erotic scene on the back wall. Also in the background, a female servant is sewing baby clothes in preparation for the birth. She sits before a lit fireplace that signifies the mother's furnace.
  

Oddly, everyone depicted in this painting is left-handed: the sister doing the pinching, Gabrielle holding the ring, and the woman sewing. I found a sumptuous portrait of a clothed Gabrielle to use as an inset (2nd image), but then realized I didn't know a thing about it. But I soon identified it. The painting is entitled (you guessed it) "Portrait of Gabrielle d’Estrées" by Italian artist Lavinia Fontana, c. 1593-99.

Court dwarfs

I hadn't put 2 and 2 together. I knew that many monarchs enjoyed the company of dwarfs in their courts, and I knew that artist Diego Rodríguez de Silva y Velázquez (1599-1660) was a favorite of Spain's King Philip IV (1605-1665). But I didn't realize that Velázquez is as well-known for his sensitive portraits of those dwarfs as he is for his portraits of the royal family.

1st image) Don Diego de Acedo ("El Primo"), c. 1645. This dwarf boasted of being related to the painter. Depicted in a seated position and slightly from below gives Don Diego a dignity that the book - the sign of a gentleman and a scholar - also conveys. Though most viewers at the time would have doubted that he could read and write, he did in fact have administrative duties at the court.

2nd image) Sebastián de Morra, c. 1645. This portrait is considered one of the most penetrating character studies ever made by Velázquez. Pictured full-figure, but seated on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, makes Don Sebastián look like a marionette and makes his sumptuous clothing look clown-like. This mirrors his powerlessness in the eyes of the king, but his own penetrating gaze questions this treatment and the lack of a smile indicates his refusal to play along. "He wears a fine red robe decorated in gold, with a lace collar, and his beard and moustache are fashionably primped. If this appearance of courtly sophistication is at odds with his short stumpy legs and the clog-like soles of his shoes, his dark, intelligent, angry eyes dare us to take this as comic, to see him as a freak. He is a man."

3rd image) Don Antonio el Inglés, c. 1640/2. While court dwarfs were often responsible for the care of the animals, the inclusion of the dog in Don Antonio's portrait also serves to exaggerate his diminutive size and to imply that he was only a step above the animal in status.

4th image) Francisco Lezcano, "El Niño de Vallecas," 1643/5. Francisco was a 15-year-old hydrocephalic dwarf with learning disabilities. His large features make him almost monumental within the tight frame of the painting that suggests his circumscribed world.

5th image) Don Juan Calabazas, "Calabacillas," 1637/9. The lighting and Don Juan's expression may indicate that "Bizco," as this dwarf was also known, had a visual impairment.

Court dwarfs were loved, but often treated badly. Their grandiose names were a form of mockery. They often functioned as court jesters in exchange for their room and board. "Because they were such an integral part of imperial activities — serving, entertaining, and present at royal celebrations — they are almost never depicted as autonomous beings; rather, they are shown as decorative elements situated at the fringes of the lives of others more important than themselves." King Philip surrounded himself with these portraits of dwarfs at his hunting lodge, Torre de la Parada, when he was away from the 110 dwarfs he retained at his palace. Most of the paintings now hang in the Prado in Madrid.

Arnolfini wedding portrait

The biggest misconception about this Renaissance painting is that the woman depicted is pregnant. She's not. The subject is thought to be a wedding portrait of Giovanni di Nicolao Arnolfini and his wife Giovanna Cenami, but the 2 weren't married until 13 years later and Giovanna in fact died childless. She appears in the painting dressed in the style of women at the time - a style often used to depict female virgin saints. And as a Tuscan cloth merchant, Arnolfini would have been knowledgeable about fashion. The wife's gesture with her left hand may be merely an indication of the couple's strong desire for an heir. The work was painted by Flemish artist Jan van Eyck (c. 1395-c. 1441) in 1434 and is considered one of the most complex paintings in Western art history. Here are some details about it:

The figures: Their placement suggests conventional 15th century views of gender roles. The man stands near the open window, symbolic of his role in the outside world, and looks directly out at the viewer. The woman stands near the bed, symbolic of her role as the caretaker of the house, and gazes obediently at her husband - though not looking down at the floor may indicate more equality than a lower-class woman would have. The hand-holding suggests a contract, like a marriage, and the man's raised hand suggests taking an oath - though it also symbolizes his commanding position of authority.

The clothing: Both subjects are richly dressed in enormously expensive outfits trimmed with fur despite the season. He wears a plaited straw summer hat and a short coat of silk velvet with a doublet of damask underneath. She is wearing a dress that has decorative dagging on the sleeves and a long train, with a blue underdress. The wearing of a headdress may indicate that the couple is already married. The slippers in the corner were a traditional gift from a husband to his bride and may also symbolize domestic tranquility.

The room: Although it contains a bed, this would have been typical of a reception room. The painting does not, however, show the usual fireplace. The elaborate bed-hangings, the carvings on the chair and bench, and the Oriental rug were signs of wealth, and the oranges on the table would have been a luxury. The carved finial on the bedpost may be St. Margaret, patron saint of pregnancy and childbirth, or St. Martha, patron saint of housewives. The brush hanging from the bedpost may suggest domestic care or chastity, and the brush and the rosary hanging on the wall could allude to the dual Christian injunctions to work and pray.

The chandelier: A probable pulley and chain mechanism to lower the elaborate brass chandelier for managing the candles has been omitted. The single candle may allude to the one used in traditional Flemish marriage rituals.

The mirror: The convex mirror is shown larger than such mirrors could actually be made at this time. The reflection shows 2 figures just inside the door the couple is facing; one of these is assumed to be the artist, but the pair may refer to the requirement that 2 people witness a wedding.

The window: A fruiting cherry tree outside indicates it is early summer.

The dog: The dog is an early form of the breed now known as the Brussels griffon. Also a traditional gift from husband to wife, the lap dog may signify loyalty, the desire for a child, or simply wealth.

But what to make of the gargoyle above the clasped hands? "The problem I sometimes feel is that the more you focus on the detail, the more the picture itself fades from view. You no longer see the whole image," says Renaissance scholar Evelyn Welch. Noting that the details of dress and setting may not have been a true likeness, but the way Arnolfini wanted to be seen, the narrator of a BBC documentary adds, "We have been tricked into thinking that Van Eyck is showing us reality, but Van Eyck's greatness doesn't lie in his ability to recreate reality, but in his ability as an illusionist. And the tricks of Van Eyck will always keep his most famous painting a mystery. The more we try to pull it apart, looking for answers, the more we realise that only faint echoes of the past remain."

Pig butchering

I found this item in the weird news intriguing, perhaps because it is anatomical. During the restoration last summer of the painting "Barn Interior" by Dutch artist Egbert van der Poel (1621-1664), conservator Barry Bauman discovered that the original image of a butchered and stretched pig had been painted over (see detail, top), likely by another artist at the request of one of the painting's wealthier owners. On his website, Bauman notes that flayed pigs or oxen would have been a common sight in the Netherlands in the 16th and 17th c., and gathers images of similar genre paintings. But on another level, the image of a slaughtered ox suspended on a wooden support - like those painted by van der Poel's contemporary, Rembrandt (above, 2nd image) - would have been understood as symbols of the crucifixion of Christ and of the transient nature of life itself. Today, the slaughtering and butchering of meat is carried out in an industrial setting, but you can still learn how to cut up the carcass on your own (above, 3rd image, click for details). Incidentally, Roald Dahl wrote a great short story (spoiler here) about a slaughterhouse, and autistic Temple Grandin, who has great insight into animals' minds, has revolutionized the design of slaughterhouses with her book Humane Livestock Handling.

Diagnosing the canvas

Like me, you may be intrigued by medical diagnoses made from historical paintings and portraits. At one point during graduate school, I collected a list pursuant to writing a paper, but went in another direction. The paintings below are linked to their sources, not the articles about their presumed conditions, but there is a good article here. Contemporary diagnoses are as follows:

"Sleeping Cupid," by Caravaggio (1571-1610), has been diagnosed with rheumatic disease by C. Espinel.

The subject of The Clubfoot by Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652) was thought to represent an example of hemiplegic cerebral palsy, but M. Ramachandran and J.K. Aronson see the flexion deformity of the wrist with adducted thumb and extended elbow to be evidence of the genetic defect arthrogryposis.

The distinctively gnarled hand of the "Girl with Mandolin" by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1875) indicates rheumatoid arthritis.

C. Espinel sees signs of breast cancer in "La Fornarina" by Raphael (1483-1520).

Bathsheba at her Toilet by Rembrant van Rijn (1606-1669) reveals an abnormality of the left breast and axilla, previously thought to indicate breast cancer. R.G. Bourne suggests an alternative diagnosis of tuberculous mastitis or a possible chronic lactational breast abscess.

In this unfinished portrait of Mozart, painted by his brother-in-law Joseph Lange in 1782, C.G. Sederholm sees evidence of Grave's disease (exopthalmic goitre) in the musician's eyes.

Portraits of Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) suggest to I. Greaves by the rash on her cheeks that she suffered from lupus.

After looking at Rembrandt's self-portraits, T. Friedman, D. Lurie, and M. Westreich refute C. Espinel's postmortem diagnosis of temporal arteritis based on the changes in his sentinal vein.

According to observations made by J. Dequeker, the models for the painting "The Three Graces" by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640)--quite possibly his second wife and her sisters-- show clinical symptoms of scoliosis, hyperextension of the metacarpal joints, and flat feet.

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The best story I uncovered referred to the long fascination with the Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile. Speculation that it resulted from changes in her facial muscles brought on by Bell's Palsy was put to rest in 1992 when the Journal of Forensic Science pointed out that it was not a smile at all, but an expression common to those who have lost their front teeth!