Museo de Cádiz

Over the last two weeks I have spent 5 days in beautiful Cádiz. Thanks to a lovely friend of mine on her year abroad I had a pretty place to stay, what was basically a tour guide, and of course, the best company.

This was my first time ever in Cádiz, but hopefully not my last. It is a tiny little place with which you feel oddly well acquainted with only after a couple of days. It is well worth a visit and whilst I was there, there was always something to do. It is a place you do not want to leave - even less so when you're sat waiting for your train to leave in the blistering sun because overnight Andalucía had transitioned into Summer!

On our first day we went to the Museum of Cádiz. This was a short walk from my friends' apartment, and an even shorter walk from where she lived before. I think what I noticed after a few days there is that you really cannot be far away from the main sights unless you are in the new town, in which case it would be a bit of an effort. Renfe trains are lovely though (describing a train as lovely is something I suspect to be very English because I have noticed everywhere has nice trains except for here) so it wouldn't be the end of the world to hop on one between the old and new parts. 

Anyway, the museum was placed right where you wouldn't see it on the Plaza de Mina. The plaza is very pretty (as they all are) and according to friend/tour guide, the palm trees had been taken from Morocco or somewhere and planted on the square. It looks really diddy from the outside and we did get confused about how to get in. However, we settled with the entrace that had 'Museo de Cádiz' written above it in the end lol.

If I remember rightly, the staff do not really speak English (do not expect the Costa del Sol where every other person speaks English, bring a phrasebook!), However, there is a museum guide/leaflet/floor plan available in a few different languages at reception. 

A little bit of history, according to my leaflet: Building designed in the 1830s by an architect called Juan Daura. He had remodelled what was previously a Franciscan convent into a late-neoclassical style building. By 1852, the Provincial Museum of Fine Arts had been created as an extension of the Academy of Fine Arts. This change may be due to the amounting pressure that came from the Disentailment Act of parliament made active under the leadership of Juan Alvarez Mendizabal. This act was responsible for the displacement of fine art from monasteries across the country...and they needed a home. The Disentailment Acts of the 1830s was basically part of a wider plan to secularise Spain and manage their crippling debt. The act meant that religious property (not only religious but they were clearly targeted) could be nationalised and then sold off to make some money. After this, it wasn't until 1887 until the next big event for the museum took place. The discovery of the anthropoid sarcophagus. From this point onwards the realisation of Cádiz as an archeological hotspot had been well and truly made. More things were found over the years and therefore the museum grew, and would eventually grow into the collection it is today.

The inside of the museum feels like a contemporary space with character, probably due to its 1980s renovation. White washed walls constructed into a 3-tier loggia, complete with an inside courtyard. 

The ground floor hosts their archeological collection. The first couple of rooms concern themselves with pre history, so lots of archaic tools and things that were found in the caves in the area. Carry on and you will see lots eerie tombs, Roman marbles with missing heads, Roman ceramics, jewelry, hair pins, Roman armour among loads of interesting ancient artifacts. Adjacent to the Roman rooms are the Moorish rooms, with pottery, jewelry and the usual archeological loot, adorned with gorgeous arrabesque patterns and sculpted from fine materials, that the historical Moorish population of Andalucía enjoyed.

Upstairs you enter the fine art gallery. Literally a gallery, with their collection dispersed across the walls of the loggia and the odd room behind it. The collection begins with the proto renaissance, images adorned with terrifying baby Jesus' that look more like gremlins who have been fed after midnight than a little baby. Moving on, you enter the glorious Spanish renaissance, then the Baroque and Rococo. The period of time represented here was approximately the mid 15th century to the 19th century. The most impressive thing by far (in my opinion) was the amazing collection of Francisco de Zubaran. There is an entire room dedicated to the caravaggesque 17th century Spanish painter. His paintings are dark, contrasting, emotive and religious. We accidentally caused the alarm to sound a couple of times in here, don't do that, you will get followed... Another note worthy piece in here is of course their Rubens! It is tiny. It does however give their room that tells the story of the flemish influence in Spanish art credibility of the best kind. 

The Zubaran Alterpiece

The Rubens!

The third and final floor is dedicated to modern art. I really enjoyed this. Modern art collections can be a bit hit and miss, but this one was enjoyable. My favourite thing ever was a modern reproduction of the evangelists. It reminded me of Jack Vettriano's portrayal of people but with a great twist: these were mobster like men bearing the message of God. Ha, amazing!

Jose Hinojo, 1997, the Evangelists.

Venetian Rococo Painting

Rococo in Venice was similar to Rococo in France (click here). The general idea is that it is lighter, fluffier without the darkness and austerity of Baroque art. Rococo art looks as if it's been 'bathed in light' and is generally less intense.

Giambattista Tiepolo, An Allegory with Venus and Time, 1753-8

Banqueting of Cleopatra, 1740

Meeting of Anthony and Cleopatra, 1747-9

Alexander the Great and Compaspe in the Studio of Apelles, 1725-6

Rosalba Carriera, Self Portrait Holding Picture of her Sister, 1715
Carriera used pastels because she was painting on the go. It is feminine and light.

Felicita Sartori, 1728-41
The sitter, Felicita, is dressed in Turkish clothes with a mask. This was typically a mascarade costume as a Turkish hareem. The idea of perhaps flirting anonymously under a mask came to embody Venice - a city whose personification is that of Venus.

Charles Sackville, 2nd Duke of Dorset, 1730
I find portraits of men during the Rococo period were far girlier than those of the Baroque period!

Gustavus Hamilton, Viscount Boyne, 1730-1

Pietro Longhi, the Charlatan, 1757
Another allusion to Venice as a place of masks and deceit.

The Geography Lesson, 1752
Delicately taking the piss out of contemporary subjects: e.g teaching your ever so stupid lady geography.

Exhibition of a Rhino at Venice, 1751
Only in the delicate and soft Rococo would a Rhino look like a massive pug.

French Rococo Painting

Taking the timeline of Baroque to Neoclassical art over to France during the reign of Louis XV (1715-1774), a style developed called Rococo. The name derives from the French 'Rocaille' to describe rock-like motifs which extends into scroll-like and shell-like motifs. The style is described as a lighter, less religion based Baroque. Louis XV was the grandson of his predecessor Louis XIV. Louis XIV stipulated in his will that his grandson should become king but shall not rule until he came of age. Before then, his nephew, Philippe of Orleans, would be the president of a Regency Council that would rule by majority. By 1723 the Regency ended and the 13 year old Louis XV became king.

Louis XIV employed academicians as his court painters, such as Poussin, of whom I wrote about here. During Louis XV's reign however, the influence of the low countries meant that French painting changed direction. Although Louis XV patronised this new style, the academicians still held their ground. The academicians, known as the 'Poussinists' were rivals of the Rubenists - those of whom followed (or painted with influence from ) the 17th century Flemish painter.

Some artists that could be described as 'Rubenists' that introduced the Rococo style:

Watteau, Embarkation for the Island of Cythera, 1717.
The island of Cythera was known as the island of Venus. The painting is dream-like, with a particularly Venetian palette. The wistfulness of the figures and the less precise brushwork has clearly been lifted from Rubens' Garden of Love (pictured below). The dimensions of this picture are 1.3m x 1.9m which is typically quite big for paintings that fell outside of the history painting genre. It is without a religious or moral meaning but is a 'fete galante' - which was basically a French party during the regency. Because of the difficulty in attributing it to a genre, the 'fete galante' became a genre of its own.

Pierrot, 1718-20.

During the reign of Louis XIV, Watteau was employed by the painter Claude Gillot whose paintings were a reaction against academic art. Here he was able to see a lot of Rubens' work but more importantly with reference to this painting he became well acquainted with characters from the 'Commedia dell'arte'. The 'comedy of craft' was a set genre of theatre which was expelled from France at the beginning of the 18th century and of which Pierrot was a character. My lecturer always says that we are 'children of the romantic era' and tend to assume paintings like this show sadness and loneliness, but he believes that may not be the case - maybe just a painting of one of his favourite characters.

Fetes Venitiennes, 1718-19.

This painting depicts Watteau's friend, and art dealer, Vleughels. He is the one in the turban. The palette is of course Venetian once more. The people in the painting are happy, flirting and listening to music. There is a sense of sensuality and harmony typical of the Rococo. Watteau has also painted a life-like sculpture to the right. The brushwork is again loose and sketchy like Rubens.

L'enseigne de Gersaint, 1720.

This is a painting of the art dealer Gersaint's shop. As above, the interaction between the figures is plentiful and flirtatious. This is quite symbolic as a change in artistic tendency - the figures are packing away austere, baroque art into boxes.

Boucher, the Rising and Setting of the Sun, 1752-3.

This one shows a slight return to moral painting. The characters are perhaps representative of Louis XV and Madame Pompadour. Louis XV as apollo is perhaps an allusion to his relation with the 'sun king' (Louis XIV). It is a baroque-ish subject mattere with baroque-ish harsh movement. Saying that, it's baroque qualities have been rococo-fied in its beauty, easy and sense of calm.

Mile O'Murphy, 1752.

My lecturer talks a lot about being able to identify different art styles through 'tits & bums' - Rococo bums are not as sculpterly as renaissance or baroque bums but not as dimplely (lol) or flat as avant-garde bums. Her foot laying of a fluffy pillow is probably meant to echo her fluffy rococo bum and is typically playful as was rococo art. With the unmistakable pinkish-orangey tones.

Frangonard, The Swing, 1767.

Hogarth's secret of beauty was that it 'leads the eye a wanton kind of chase' - i would say this applies here. She has a slipper flying off, there's a curling tree branch over her head and of course she is on a swing - a sense of letting go and being at ease. 

Coresus Sacrificing Himself to Save Callirhoe, 1767.

Perhpas at first this doesn't look as calm and at ease as the others, but the little putti to the right and the way in which the sacrifice could be mistaken for something other than killing yourself are tell-tale signs of rococo. 

Chardin, the Young Schoolmistress, 1735-40.

This looks like Dutch genre scenes but the refined and Venetian brushtroke gives it the quality of the French rococo. Although Chardin was influenced by the Dutch and Venetian like the other rococo painters, his work is characterised by the sense of Bourgeoisie morality that he perhaps picked up from the Netherlands too. It wasn't like the baroque whereby the sense of morality was geared towards the upper class of whom concerned themselves with dangerous, unorthodox pit-falls. It was about life, and the need to be learned for example. In rococo style though, the schoolmistress is neither harsh nor demanding - she is patient and kind. 

The House of Cards, 1735-6.

This is another typical morality piece. The young boy is acting like an adult in his adult clothes, but as a house of cards may fall easily, his demeanor may deteriorate too - a lesson in acting prudent.

The Attributes of the Arts, 1766.

This obviously has a lot of still-life influence from the Dutch.  Chardin wanted to be taken seriously and this was actually accepted into the academy. It shows a sculpture by his friend, Pigatte (of Mercury), books and the Order of St. Michael award that was awarded to artists.