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Tag: renaissance
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Renaissance Reader
The Bookseller of Florence By Ross KingThe Bookseller of Florence: The Story of the Manuscripts That Illuminated the Renaissance
By Ross King
496 pages
Atlantic Monthly Press
“All evil is born from ignorance. Yet writers have
illuminated the world, chasing away the darkness.”—Vespasiano da Bisticci
Ross King has published several fastidiously researched and precisely articulated books of Renaissance art history. His Brunelleschi’s Dome, a tiny volume tracing the construction of the largest dome since Ancient Rome, became a runaway bestseller in 2013. That volume followed his books about Michelangelo (2002), Machiavelli (2009) and Leonardo (2012). King’s oeuvre is beautifully crafted and clearly conceived, belying all the stereotypes about dense, pretentious art writing.
His newest production, The Bookseller of Florence, focuses on manuscript publisher and distributor Vespasiano da Bisticci (1421–1498). Vespasiano’s career straddled the explosive increase of manuscript production and the world-changing introduction of printed books during the quattrocento.
King introduces his readers to an astonishing array of collectors: popes and sultans, merchants and mercenaries, dukes, bankers, scholars and priests. He also traces the intense power struggles—many of which ended in warfare—that tormented the early Renaissance. My only criticism of the book is that King refers to so many historic figures that it is sometimes difficult to discern who is what and when.
One of the key characters we meet is Johannes Gutenberg, who is credited with inventing the movable-type printing press in 1440. (In fact, such devices actually appeared in Asia centuries earlier: The Koreans had bronze-cast movable type by 1200.) King maps the spread of printing presses across Europe. The first printing press in Florence opened in 1471. Five years later, Venice had 18 printers. By 1500, there were 255 presses operating in Europe. Between 1454 and 1500, over 12.5 million printed books appeared on the continent.
Iean Guttenberg, Inventeur / de l’Imprimerie; illustration extracted from Andre Thevet’s ‘Pourtraits et Vies des Hommes Illustres,’1584. ©The Trustees of the British Museum. Florence is central to King’s story, in part because it had such a high literacy rate: Almost seven in every 10 adults—including female adults—could read. In contrast, most other European cities had literacy rates of less than 25 percent. Largely because of the rediscovery and re-valuation of books by ancient writers like Plato and Aristotle, Florence became the center of the revival of antiquity that led to the “revolution in knowledge” we call the Renaissance. One scholar argued that the recovery and translation of Plato into Latin was “the most important achievement of 15th-century scholarship.” Another called Florence “Athens on the Arno.”
Vespasiano and his clients sought to translate great works from the ancients in order to create “a safer and more stable society.” Ancient Rome had more than 20 public libraries. Many of Florence’s wealthy and powerful—including several of the Medicis—hired Vespasiano to help them build their own libraries, seeking to establish their earthly status and insure their lasting legacy.
One of the delights of King’s text is his repeated turns of etymology. He discusses the origins of words like bibliography and bible, page and volume, book and library. The word for pen comes from the Latin penna or feather. Colophon, which derives from a Greek word meaning hilltop or summit, came to refer to a finishing touch or crowning stroke, before it mutated into reference to the publisher’s final addendum to a text. Vespasiano not only pioneered the use of colophons, he and his scribes also began the practice of title pages.
King dubs one of his chapters “Wondrous Treasures” and indeed, he presents many historical and intellectual treasures as he marches through Vespasiano’s world. I recommend his book to anyone eager to understand the context of Renaissance art, or of the Renaissance in general.
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Lover’s Eyes: Eye Miniatures from the Skier Collection
Seeing Eye to EyeLover’s Eyes:
Eye Miniatures
from the Skier
Collection, 2021Ed. Elle Shushan;
essays by Graham C. Boettcher,
Stephen Lloyd, and Elle Shushan.
Photography by Nik Layman.280 pages
Giles Ltd.
Lover’s Eyes, a new catalog on eye miniatures, lets us peer at one of the most extensive private collections of these weird and wonderful 18th- and 19th-century works—most of which stare right back.
Eye miniatures were briefly in vogue in England at the end of the 18th century, their popularity inextricable from the story of the Prince of Wales’ love for Mrs. Maria Fitzherbert and his commission of several of the tokens. As always, the truth is a bit more complicated than the romance, and dealer Elle Shushan provides a fair overview of the trend’s history, situating the works within the traditions of portrait miniatures and sentimental jewelry. Stephen Lloyd provides further detail on court artist Richard Cosway, the best-known painter of the form. Cosway actually went unpaid for his trend-setting eye miniatures: rather than risking offense to his royal client by insisting on invoices, he leveraged the prestige of royal patronage into the rest of his business (“working for exposure” is nothing new).
Typically painted in watercolor on ivory, eye miniatures were often set in intimate pieces like bracelets, brooches, pendants or rings. The catalog also contains several boxes and a unique wallet, while the essays cover other exceptions that prove the rule—like the oddly surveilling 1840s eye miniature that was set in a mantelpiece. Essays on the symbolic languages of gems and flowers, which were often included in the miniatures’ settings or painted alongside, show much potent meaning could be contained in one tiny object and in how many ways they communicated to their viewer or recipient.
Book cover Most interesting was the essay on the afterlife of eye miniatures, a little-studied field: Graham Boettcher adds much with his survey of how later artists took inspiration from the trend. Magritte and Dali brought Surrealist takes into view; some might add the oversize eyes of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough commissioned for the ceiling of Blenheim Palace in 1928 to that category. Boettcher also explores how contemporary artists have played ironically with the form’s conventions, from making miniatures of the eyes of famous works—a game of “spot the painting”—to creating animal eye miniatures or commemorating other fragments of the body. Fatima Ronquillo depicts people of color with and in portrait miniatures, often combining the format with the tradition of Mexican milagros, or devotional charms; her pensive works have the added effect of highlighting the racial homogeneity of the trend’s earlier subjects.
Flipping through the vast collection of eyes, I was paradoxically struck by the individuality of each one, down to the finest detail of facial features and settings. Despite—or because of—the fact that most of the eyes remain anonymous, their gazes hold endless fascination. In the context of distance and disconnection, people often look for objects that can make them feel close. We’re more likely to send a selfie than an eye these days. But Lover’s Eyes shows that time has not changed the creative variety of ways we try to look at and see one another.