This beautiful masterpiece is by Jean-Leon Gerome
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Lady of Shalott
The Lady of Shalott
John Waterhouse
1888
The Tate Gallery, London, England
(The Legend and poem can be viewed below this image)
John Waterhouse
1888
The Tate Gallery, London, England
(The Legend and poem can be viewed below this image)
Click the image for full size view
John Waterhouse was surely inspired by the ballad by the same name, written by Lord Alfred Tennyson.
The legend is that the Lady of Shalott had a curse placed on her and was forced to live in a tower, located near Camelot. Because of the curse, she could only look at the world and at reality through a mirror, and weaved what she saw into a tapestry to remind her of the glimpses she had stolen. She did this because if she looked directly at someone, tragedy would befall them.
On one occasion, she caught a glimpse of Sir Lancelot in her mirror and became so enraptured, she dared to gaze out her window and looked out at Camelot, bringing about a dreadful curse. It was then that the mirrored cracked.
She decided to escape the island and her tower prison during an autumn storm. As she sailed towards Camelot and certain death, it is said she sang a lament. According to the legend she was later found frozen to death by the knights and ladies of Camelot. The tapestry she had woven during her captivity was found draped upon the bow of the boat.
The Lady of Shalott
Part I
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veiled
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the curly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lira," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance —
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Lord Alfred Tennyson
Part I
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veiled
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the curly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lira," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance —
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Lord Alfred Tennyson
The Poems of Tennyson, ed. Christopher Ricks. Second edition incorporating the Trinity College Manuscripts. Burnt Mill, Harlow, Essex: Longman, 1987. I, 387-95.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Isle of the Dead
The Isle of the Dead
Arnold Bocklin
Oil on Wood
1883
Alte Nationalgalerie (Old Gallery) - Berlin
Arnold Bocklin
Oil on Wood
1883
Alte Nationalgalerie (Old Gallery) - Berlin
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Birth of Venus
The Birth of Venus
Sandro Botticelli
circa 1483 - 85
Uffizi Gallery - Florence, Italy
Sandro Botticelli
circa 1483 - 85
Uffizi Gallery - Florence, Italy
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The Tower of Babel
The Tower of Babel
Pieter Bruegel the Elder
1563
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (Museum of Fine Art)
Pieter Bruegel the Elder
1563
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (Museum of Fine Art)
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Last Day of Pompeii
The Last Day of Pompeii
Karl Brullov
1830-1833
The State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg
Fall of the Rebel Angels - Pieter Bruegel
Fall of the Rebel Angels
Pieter Bruegel the Elder
1562
Royal Museum of Fine Arts of Belgium
Royal Museum of Fine Arts of Belgium
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
From The Story of Snow White
From The Story of Snow White - 1912
Maxfield Parrish
Fine Arts Museum of San Fransisco
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Automedon with the Horses of Achilles
Automedon with the Horses of Achilles
Regnault, Henri, 1868
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Regnault, Henri, 1868
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Oil on canvas
Mixed Flowers in an Earthen Pot - Renoir
Mixed Flowers in an Earthenware Pot
Pierre Auguste Renoir
about 1869
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Pierre Auguste Renoir
about 1869
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Monday, August 22, 2011
The Lion Hunt
The Lion Hunt
Rubens, Peter Paul, 1617-1618
Rubens, Peter Paul, 1617-1618
In this painting, Rubens creates a masterful depiction of a wild and chaotic battle between man and beast, and finds an enticing balance between the emotional reactions of the viewer and a fascination of the exotic.
Many of the dukes and nobility that commissioned these works had either been hunting in the exotic lands, and had captured animals such as tigers and lions to bring back to their estates, or were fascinated by what they had heard about the exotic. An important aspect of these hunting scenes to remember was that during the sixteenth century hunting was prohibited to the majority of the population; only the nobility and royalty were given permission to hunt.
Maximilian I, Duke of Bavaria commissioned the original hunting scenes, which initiated commissions by other nobility including, James 1st Duke of Hamilton, Comte d’Arenberg and Sir Dudley Carleton.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Snake Charmer - Jean Leone Gerome
Painted by Jean Leone Gerome (1824 - 1904) is an oil on canvas and was displayed at the World's Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893. A complete history of the painting can be found HERE.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Unicorn Is Found At The Fountain Tapestry
This beautiful tapestry (circa 1496-1505 CE) is one of the finest surviving examples of tapestry art from the Gothic period. Many times, tapestries such as this one were part of a series or set, in this case, called The Cloisters Collection.
Unicorn Is Found At The Fountain allows us to appreciate the rich colors and the subtlety such as in the modeling of the faces. The tonal variations in the animal furs and rich details demonstrate the vast technical skills of weavers of the day. Measuring 12 feet 1 inch by 12 feet 5 inches, it is both dramatic and commanding in presence. It is presently owned by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and was a gift from John D. Rockefeller Jr.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Khajuraho Temple
This facade is on the Khajuraho Temple in India. The stone work is amazing! The walls are lined with sexual carvings depicting poses described in the Kamasutra and give mirror symbolize the realism of present and past human desires.
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