Rembrandt’s Bathsheba with King David’s Letter and Cassatt’s Letter—icons in the Politics of Postmodern Gender Dilemma
Abstract
This article discusses the
intimate moments in art regarding a comparative critique of the following
paintings: Rembrandt’s Bathsheba with
King David’s Letter, Cassatt’s Letter,
Munch’s Voice, and Picabia’s I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie. In the first two artworks, the written letter
is the iconic medium of communication in the narrative: the initial or final
moment of intimacy. In Munch’s Voice, it’s the awakening of the subject
in its stark frozen posture. In Picabia, it’s the metaphor, combining nature
and the machine that represents the narrative. The unsettled posture in the
nude or in the clothed figure drives the told narrative. The untold,
speculative narrative, however, is driven mostly by the formal properties—the elements
of art toward abstraction. Significantly, the more realistic works are then perceived
as a subtext, poised to regard certain gender issues with response to political
or domestic concerns of alleged intimate impositions in recent times.
Paul C. Blake
Independent artist/writer and thinker
It is uncommon for an attractive but less
sumptuous woman to be summoned to a royal or presidential palace or even by an
unknown suitor as the subject of ones desiring. In antiquity, Bathsheba, the
wife of Uriah was the subject of King David’s impromptu desire. Gazing from the rooftop of his palace, the
king spotted Bathsheba while she was taking a bath on the grounds below. He then contrived a plot to make her his wife
when he deliberately had her husband killed in battle. It is the moment when she received the king’s
letter requesting her to join him in the palace that Rembrandt has chosen to
depict. (fig.1.1) Contrarily to the biblical account, the
letter here is the artist’s device to draw ones attention to the subjects deep
and troubling contemplation of the king’s imposing request after reading the
letter.
1.1 Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn, Bathsheba at her bath. 1654. Oil on canvas Photo: Herve Lewandowski © RMN-Grand Palais/Art Resources,NY |
Bathsheba holds the letter above her raised
knee, deeply pondering it as her maidservant gives her a pedicure. In
preparation to meet the king, she is shown in the nude in an awkward posture with
deep sadness and a melancholy look on her face.
At that time, she was not considered innocent but shameful since she did
not take care to conceal her nakedness and therefore looked upon as betraying
her marriage vows (Davies 723). Not
erotic, but her fleshy and palpable body makes her sensuality difficult to
ignore. Under the circumstance, she is but a dethroned goddess flawed by the
physical and psychological attributes of humanity. In the giggling, amorous flesh and troublesome
mind, she is weighed in the balances and found wanting—as she lacks the will
power to resist the king’s demand. Paradoxically,
her non-idyllic form, including her fat swollen belly, hanging breast, rough
hands and garter marks about her hips appears attractive to the one most
desiring of her. In this dash of realism, she is just an ordinary woman with a
sensual body marked by another’s desire.
Her emblems of adornment including an arm bracelet, earing, necklace and
cherry-like nipples are the accentuating variables in her attractive
sexuality. She is certainly not the
realist’s barefaced, reclining, propositioning and tantalizing Olympia in the nude
as depicted by Edouard Manet. She only has to appear as an ordinary or a private
woman—without proposition or prostitution in her own private space.
On the other hand, in Mary Cassatt’s etching
and aquatint, Letter, (fig. 1.2) a woman is depicted licking the
seal on the envelope she’s holding. Like
Bathsheba, the young woman in Cassatt’s etching appears uneasy and tensed as
she presses forward in her anxious posture.
Art historian, Laurie Schneider Adams has perceived the subject’s
apprehension not by a specific narrative but through the formal expression in
the agitated surface designs (822). The
subject’s pressing concerns may be obscured by her downward gaze but not by her
insecure gesture as she seals the envelope or the flurries of leafy, organic
shapes and patterns on the wallpaper spilling onto her dress. On the wall about
her head, these floating randomized shapes sometimes appear like a swarm of
butterflies, but onto her dress they soon appear crab-like. This metamorphosis may
hint at the idea of butterflies gnawing the stomach.
Concerning shapes, Arnheim discussed the
difference between physical shape and the perceptual shape. “Physical shape of
an object is determined by its boundaries…Perceptual shape, by contrast, may
change considerably when it’s spatial orientation or its environment changes” (47).
So in the Letter, the ornamental leafy motif may reflect an image relative to
the emotional and psychological environment.
1.2 Mary Cassatt, The Letter, 1891. Etching and aquatint Worcester Art Museum ((MA) Mrs. Kingsmill Marrs Collection, 1926.205 |
At this
juncture, let’s consider the impetus of psychology—the mannerism of both
subjects’ posture. The solemn yet distant gaze and the raised eyebrow in one or
the concealed facial expressions in the bowed head of the other are apparent
signs of the worries they nurtured. In the moments of her mental deliberations,
the apprehensive Bathsheba must consider whether she is going to honor or
dishonor the royal invitation to be in the king’s bed. In this context, she
appears anxious in her posture. Sigmund Freud while discussing anxiety refers
to it as neurotic anxiety which includes a general apprehensiveness,
free-floating, affecting judgments, inducing expectations, and waiting for the opportunity
to find justification for itself. It is the kind he calls the anxious
expectation in which the tormented would always expect the worst (Riviere 609). He also observes that in the sphere of
character-formation, sexual restraint goes hand in hand with a certain
anxiousness and cautiousness, but “how anxiety develops out of sexual desire is
at present obscure; we can only ascertain that desire is lacking and anxiety is
found in its place” (Riviere 611).
The awkward psychological moments in the
receiving or sending of the letter appear dynamic in the less composed oblique
posture of the subjects. Neither frontal nor profile, the three quarter view of
their revolving bodies away from the picture plane have also enhanced the
energetic moment in time. Consequently, the dynamics of this obliqueness seem
appropriate to the psychological epoch of an impulsive gesture in time.
Concerning aesthetics on visual perception, Arnheim observes that the oblique
orientation is probably the most elementary and effective means of obtaining
directed tension as it is perceived spontaneously to be a dynamic straining
toward or away from the basic spatial framework of the vertical and horizontal
(424, 425).
Besides the sense of insecurity and
uneasiness reflected in Cassatt’s woman sealing the letter, other artists have
cemented this agitation in the frozen posture of an erect subject—one not
merely bounded to the external constraints, but rather an internal,
psychological environment as manifested in Munch’s Summer Night’s Dream (The
Voice) (fig. 1.3) Obviously, this is not the fairy-enchanted forest in a Shakespearean
scene of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in
which Hermia awakens, calling out for Lysander's help,
because she has just had a nightmare in which a snake ate her heart. It is not an awakening of love conjured up by the
misadministration of a love portion. Rather, in his caged like woods, Munch’s
subject is caught between repression and the stark desire to speak as her rigid
stance is also amplified by the strict verticals of the Asgardstrand trees. At
the core of her being, the young woman in Munch’s landscape appears not just
surrounded by the external vertical elements of her caged environment but by
her anxiety trapped in her apparent upper torso as she presses forward with her
hands pinned behind her back. The repressive voice without the utter is but a
striking footnote in the subconscious deliberation in the intimate realization
of one’s self. A floating lamp post like an obelisk, perhaps a phallic symbol,
is depicted in her background along the sandy shore line of tranquil waters. In
the archaic times, she reflects certain composure in posture, a crude
development in the shocking realization concerning the discovery of her human
sexuality. “The female standing (kore)
in this period is, on the other hand, regularly shown covered with drapery,
which is foldless and adheres closely to the body” (Richter 56). Another critic’s notion of the uncertain and
precarious experience is not merely a romantic one but a search to resolve the meeting
of the internal as well as the external conflicts in the deliberating feminine self
as in the case of Edvard Munch. “The
self is a battleground where the irresistible force of desire meets the
immovable object of social constraint” (Hughes 276).
1.3 Edvard Munch Summer Night’s Dream (The Voice ) 1893 Oil on Canvas 87.9 x 108cm Photograph © 9/26/16 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston |
In modern art, the artist has used the
Cubist’s element including the juxtaposition of shapes to reorganize his or her
narratives in terms of abstraction. For example, in 1914 the French artist,
Francis Picabia, created an image of the sexual encounter he had experienced on
a transatlantic liner with a ballet dancer. He called the painting, I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie.
(fig. 1.4). As he forged an alliance
between nature and the machine, the mechanical energy in the rustling tensions
of intimacy is sensed in the striking, aluminum and abstract petals. On the
turf of Cubists’ conventions, love slips between the crowed overlapping and
semi-transparent planes with a pent up clamor for an eruption like the
potential energy trapped in an exhaust system of the stirring and blooming
engine. In this new and fresh alliance, it is the shock of the new in the
refreshed experience of intimacy that appears attractive. “Look at the machine,
the play of pistons in the cylinders: They are steel Romeos inside cast-iron
Juliets. The ways of human expression are in no way different to the
back-and-forth of our machine. This is a law to which one must pay homage,
unless one is either impotent or a saint,” recalled Hughes in the words of the novelist,
Joris Huysman (51). In this erotic and somewhat neurotic moment, form becomes
essence in the multifarious assemblage of the
climatic experience of sexual intercourse. The couple as it were seems to have
‘lost their minds, in the abstract momentous expression of feeling and form.
1.4 Francis Picabia I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie 1914 Oil on Canvas ©The Museum of Modern Art Digital Image Art/Licensed by SCALA/Art Resource, NY |
No matter the form, realistic or abstract,
the tension is perceived well into the artist renditions of intimacy. In the traditional works, it appears in the
constricted features of the face or on the shrugged shoulders and frozen stance
in the postures of anxious figures. In
the more modern work, it appears on the cutting edge of the fan like blades of
petals connected to the exhaust pipes reflected in the stigmas. These are
merely the perplexed or gleeful, intimate moments in art as it becomes
transformative and universal over time.
Furthermore, as we begin to read the
painting as a text, Rembrandt’s painting, Bathsheba
with King David’s Letter, appears relevant across time and space with
allusions to similar contemporary gender issues including sexual harassment in
the work place. “The text is plural…it accomplishes the very plural meaning: an
irreducible. It…is a passage, an over crossing; thus it answers…to an explosion
[and] a dissemination” (Barthes 159). An
ancient dilemma has become a political debate in more recent times. In
Postmodern times, the public portraits of women in the political arena have
become revealing in the cases of sexual harassment and propositioning for the
sake of pleasure. In the work place or
in the Oval Office, it makes no difference; this reoccurring dilemma is still the
same despite the proposition or the cover-up. Besides the luminous nude, a blue
dress has become sufficient in the masculinity of the overbearing propositions.
The cases of Anita Hill and Monica Lewinsky
have strong reverberations in retrospection of the iconographic posture of
Bathsheba in Baroque times. Much of the debate on Capitol Hill is not about the
redemption of the plaintiff but to post a sticky note with a warning on the
conscience of the defendant—that is not just a small slap on the wrist but a
big slap in the face to the often powerless
and troubled victim— frequently the feminine gender.
Most striking, and ground
breaking is the Avant-garde testimony of the accuser Professor Anita Hill, “the
poised daughter of so many generations of black women who have been burned
carrying torches into the battle for principles” (Gibbs 35). By her glance, she could be Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, but in her
anxious and tense posture—not the ordinary girl or the extraordinary seducer.
Here, she is depicted in her teal blue dress while surrounded by her
interrogators—the patriarchs of the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing. (fig. 1.5) Her dress however is not flourishing with the
ornamental floral patterns of Cassatt’s subject in the Letter (fig. 1.2) but by
the political fixtures of curious faces of senators stirring the feeling of butterflies
in her stomach. Unlike the Letter,
the dialogues were spoken openly in this hearing—not closed or privately
communicated.
1.5 Paul C. Blake Gender, Politics & Sex 2016 Collage Artist Collection |
In the open dialogues of She Said, He Said, during the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing,
Professor Anita Hill spoke of the humiliation, and frustration she experienced
while working in the company of her boss Clarence Thomas. “She spoke of her
fear of being squeezed out of good assignments and losing her job,” said writer
Jill Smolowe (39). In a pensive mood,
much more than Bathsheba, Hill related, “What happened and telling the world
about it are the two most difficult…experience of my life” (Smolowe 37). In the
mounting pressure to deliver answers, a transfixed, steady gaze from the
corners of her eyes, drawn to her interrogators’ flogging and unanticipated
questions may reveal an inkling of the underlying pressure to answer
thoughtfully and earnestly without compromising her integrity while avoiding
indirect implications of any flirting or indiscretions. Now, consider this and
who said: “There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face” (Mac. 1.
4. 13-11).
Regarding expressions and perceptual
purposes, Arnheim wrote that “in the narrower sense, expression is said to
exist only where there is a mind to be expressed. The face and the gestures of a human being
express what is going on inside” (445).
This, too, is perhaps the perceptual qualities in the general anxiety or
unhappiness of the burdensome feelings in the interrogated subject as she is jarred
by the proposition of her suitor or darted with the suspicious questions of her
interrogators. Then, when it was all said and done, justice appeared up-side
down in favor of the Patriarch on the crown or the one later to be confirmed.
Still here and
now seeps a fractured spirit not just in their sometimes solemn and distant
gaze but in the unread or read dialogues of their anxious and awkward postures
or even in the sharp and edgy contour lines of her abstract, fleeting and
flowering body. Very much so heaps a longing, a voice not long heard in a
measure of time until now, though just barely attended. In passing, or with great contempt, it might
be said that all remain just this one abstract and mechanical thought of her—I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie—merely
a memory of the patriarch’s presumption of or for sexual pleasure, expressed in
the attractive blooming petal-like forms inextricably fused with machine
symbolism into and beyond the modern era (Hughes 51). All that she once was or might have become—in his
subjunctive, and possessive deconstructed mind— is still in the here and now—another
prance to the catch with an out of order fumble when it’s all said and done.
Works Cited
Adams,
Laurie Schneider. Art across Time. 2nd
Edition New York: McGraw-Hill Companies, 2002. Print.
Arnheim,
Rudolf. Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology
of the Creative Eye. Los Angeles: University of California Press Berkeley,
1954. Print.
Barthes,
Roland. Image Music Text. Trans.
Stephen Heart. New York: The Noonday Press, 1977. Print.
Cassatt,
Mary. The Letter. 1890-1891.
Worcester Art Museum, Worcester.
Davies,
Penelope J.E., et al, eds. Janson’s
History of Art: The Western Tradition 8th Edition. Upper Saddle
River: Prentice Hall, 2011. Print.
Gibbs,
Nancy. “An Ugly Circus.” Time, 21
Oct. 1991, p. 35. Print.
Hughes,
Robert. The Shock of the New. New
York: Alfred A. Knope, 1981. Print.
Munch,
Edvard. Summer Night’s Dream (The Voice).
1893. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Ernest Wadsworth Longfellow Fund.
Picabia,
Francis. I See Again in Memory My Dear
Udnie.1914. Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Richter,
Gisela. A Handbook of Greek Art. New
York: E.P. Dutton, 1980. Print.
Rijn,
Rembrandt van. Bathsheba with King
David’s Letter. 1654. The Louvre, Paris.
Riviere,
Joan. “A General Introduction to Psycho-Analysis.” The Major Works of Sigmund Freud. Ed. Robert Maynard Hutchins. New
York: Liveright Publishing Corporation, 1920. 449-638. Print.
Shakespeare,
William. Macbeth. Edited by Louis B.
Wright and Virginia A. Lamar. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1959. Print.
Smolowe,
Jill. “She Said, He Said.” Time, 21
Oct. 1991, pp. 36-40. Print.
No comments :
Post a Comment
We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. рдк्рд░рдХाрд╢िрдд рд░рдЪрдиा рд╕े рд╕рдо्рдмंрдзिрдд рд╢ाрд▓ीрди рд╕рдо्рд╡ाрдж рдХा рд╕्рд╡ाрдЧрдд рд╣ै।