Finding Dürer’s Perspective

In the early 16th century Nuremberg-born artist Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528) changed the landscape of his artistic practise – literally. Taking his cue from Leon Battista Alberti (1404 –1472) and Piero della Francesca (1415–1492), Dürer began to introduce the ‘secret art of perspective’ into his works.[1]  He used measurement and geometry to produce images that created the illusion of depth in a flat pictorial-plane. Over five hundred years later, the University of Melbourne’s Print Collection set out to celebrate Dürer’s cross-disciplinary approach to art and mathematics with the Dürer Drawing Day!

In the beginning of his artistic career, Dürer did not have the precise understanding of perspective that is associated with him today. Dürer struggled in his very early works to separate the different pictorial-planes accurately enough to create the illusion of depth. In The Prodigal Son Amid the Swine (1496) for example, a tree appears to sprout from the roof of a house in the background. The year 1510 is a turning point for Dürer’s artistic practise. After his travels around Bologna, he had gained and practised knowledge of the art of perspective sufficiently to apply it in his own drawings. The Large Cannon (1518) is an impressive example of Dürer’s mastering of the overlapping plane and ability to create the impression of depth in a two-dimensional landscape.

Unknown Copier after Albrecht Dürer, The Prodigal Son and the Swine, engraving

Dürer’s (not so concisely named) 1525 Painter’s Manual: A Manual of Measurement of Lines, Areas, and Solids by means of Compass and Ruler (Underweysung der Messung mit dem Zirckel und Richtscheyt) consolidated all the information about perspective that he had learnt in Italy.  The manual starts with an explanation of how to draw the most basic line. Each section of the book develops this line into more and more complex forms. These  forms, including spirals, columns, foreshortened squares, two and three-dimensional shapes, then form the artistic building blocks for drawing objects that appear to occupy ‘real’ space. The Manual was designed as a ‘step by step’ guide for aspiring art students, although Dürer concludes with a series of ‘cheats’ designed to create ‘easy’ perspective (perhaps for the lazy student).

Albrecht Dürer, Draftsman Drawing a Lute (The Manual of Measurement), woodcut, 1525

The Dürer Drawing Day took its inspiration from some of the final ‘cheat’ images in the Manual. Two 1525 woodcuts show contraptions designed by Dürer to (apparently) ‘easily’ draw accurate images of people and objects.  The second of these shows a draftsman drawing a lute. To paraphrase Dürer’s own description, a draftsman uses ‘a strong thread’ hammered into the wall to create ‘the near point of sight’ and places a vertical frame parallel to the wall. Then ‘a lute or other object to your liking’ is placed on the opposite end of the table to the wall. The near point of sight is placed on parts of the lute and string attached with hot wax to the frame to mark where the near point of sight passes through the frame. The points that the crossed strings denote are then marked on ‘your drawing tablet’ creating an accurate dotted outline for the lute.[2] This complex description visually translates to the seemingly simple diagram shown in the woodcut.

Mastering an Old Master’s Technique

For the Drawing Day, this drawing device was recreated (complete with lute) to see whether Dürer’s ‘shortcut’ really worked. The experimental music collection at the Grainger Museum provided a back-drop for the Melbourne Print Collection’s attempt at an artistic experimentation of their own. With the exception of a few modern substitutes (masking tape instead of wax and Bluetac instead of a nail) a prototype Dürer drawing device was demonstrated to the assembled audience (including student artists) on the day.

Our modern reconstruction of Durer’s drawing apparatus

Theoretically, the device appeared to be a success. However, it was quickly discovered that the practical application was flawed. It required such meticulous positioning of the frame, object, paper and threads, that the slightest movement of any part of the device could undo the accuracy of the drawing. To create a perfect curve (as is required with a lute) was also incredibly time-consuming, as it required a lot of points to be marked in close proximity to each other – with each point requiring a minimum of two people to plot. A frustrated audience, who also struggled with Dürer’s shortcut, speculated whether the device was a literal drawing tool for Dürer or a visual representation of what a draftsman imagines when creating perspective or even a final joke on artists who did not take the time to read whole manual…

Alongside the drawing device, a number of Dürer’s prints (held at the Baillieu Library) were displayed for attendees of the Drawing Day to get up close to. The contrast between the complexity of the content of images (such as Melancholia, 1514), and the sparse and simplistic outlines produced by the drawing device was stark.  It was hard to imagine how the selection of dots and dashes on our page could ever evolve into a lute, let alone a detailed allegorical figure.

Selection of Durer prints from the Melbourne print collection

At the end of the Drawing Day the lute remained aloof and very difficult to draw. It seems most likely that alongside his understanding of geometry and his imaginative inventions, Dürer added a healthy dash of artistic talent to his works to make them masterpieces.

A masterpiece by one attendee of the Durer Drawing Day

With thanks to the Grainger Museum.

To learn more about the Baillieu’s Print Collection click here – http://library.unimelb.edu.au/collections/special-collections/print-collection

 

Katherine Reeve, recipient of the International Museums and Collections Award 2017

 

References 

[1] Walter L. Strauss, Introduction in Painter’s Manual: A Manual of Measurement of Lines, Areas, and Solids by means of Compass and Ruler (1525), (Abaris Books, New York; 1977), p.7.

[2] Albrecht Dürer, Painter’s Manual: A Manual of Measurement of Lines, Areas, and Solids by means of Compass and Ruler (1525), trans. Walter L. Strauss (Abaris Books, New York; 1977)

Parisian Past-Times: Chronologie Collée and the Leeds Album

As part of the Cultural Collections Projects Program, I have been given the opportunity to catalogue an album of 17th century French prints under the guidance of prints curator Kerrianne Stone. We know from a letter by Dr J. Orde Poynton that in the early 1970s a collection of nine albums comprising approximately 8,000 engraved portraits (with French, German and Italian origination) was purchased by the University of Melbourne from Dawson’s of Pall Mall, London. The Leeds Album may have been related to this purchase but without acquisition records available we cannot be certain. Although the exact provenance of the album has been difficult to determine, I have uncovered some interesting information in the process of cataloguing the prints.

Bound in embossed leather, the Leeds Album is an impressive collection of over 245 engraved 17th century portraits which have been pasted onto the pages of the album. The subjects of the portraits include a range of eminent European individuals – mostly French – from the late middle ages to early modern period including kings and queens, Holy Roman Emperors, notable members of the clergy, politicians, classical philosophers and a lone hermit. Contained in the album are the works of several prominent engravers, including Pierre Daret, Balthasar Moncornet, Louis Boissevin, and Pieter de Jode II. The portraits are stylistically diverse and demonstrate the different technical abilities and decorative styles that were applied by the individual engravers and by the artists whom the engravers copied. Many of the portraits in the album are accompanied by text printed in French and Latin. These texts usually describe the subject’s status, title and historical significance. The album is marked throughout with handwritten annotations, poetry and hand-coloured engravings, suggesting that the album was a highly utilised and valued object.

A bookplate bearing the Leeds coat of arms, and a portrait within the album, adorned with a personalised dedication to the Duke of Leeds, reveals that the album was formerly in the possession of Francis Osborne (1751-1799), British politician and the 5th Duke of Leeds. It is likely that he was given the album as a gift when he was appointed to the post of ambassador of England to France in 1783.[1.] Osborne declined the position, however, and subsequently served as foreign secretary under William Pitt’s administration instead. [2.] Osborne began auctioning off his collection of Italian, French, Flemish and Dutch art at Pall Mall, London, in 1796. [3.] The Leeds Album may have been included in this sale.

Sections of the album feature engravings taken from Chronologie Collée series. Chronologie Collée was a French printmaking phenomenon that involved a series of small portraits of influential figures, printed in tabular format, which could be cut down to individual portraits and pasted into an album. [4.] This technique was popular in France, and, from the 1620s, there were at least twenty series of portraits, as well as sheets of biographical text and decorative borders, stocked by various print sellers around Paris. [5.] The aim of the format is similar to that of contemporary card collecting or scrapbooking; an individual could collect complete sets, assemble their albums themselves and create volumes. The Leeds Album features engravings from at least three different Chronologie Collée series: Rulers and Dukes of Brabant, Foresters and the Counts of Flanders and the Portraits of the many illustrious men who have flourished in France. Many of the engravings in the album were not printed in a tabular format but as individual portrait prints; these have also been trimmed and pasted into the album in a manner that is consistent with the Chronologie Collée technique.

It is likely that the intended purpose of the album was to provide Osborne with a reference book of important figures in French history, in order to prepare him for his position as English ambassador to France. This suggests that Chronologie Collées had a didactic element, as well as providing a leisurely activity. Throughout the album there are sections of consecutive blank pages, which suggests that these sections may have been purposefully left blank for future additions. Whether Osborne assembled the album himself, and what his methodical approach was, is unknown, but the question presents an interesting avenue for further research.

Once the album has been accessioned it will be available online via the EMu (Electronic Museum) database for further research and engagement. The French Album offers a glimpse into collecting practices, and diplomatic relations, of 17th century France. The Chronologie Collée printmaking technique is an intriguing and under-researched format, and, as such, the French album is an exciting and illuminating source to be housed in the university’s cultural collections.

Rosalie Mickan, Catalogue Assistant

Notes

[1.]  Upon being offered the position of English ambassador to France, Osborne was gifted an album containing an exhaustive list of French knights and commandments and their coats of arms, it is likely that he was also gifted the Leeds album around this time. Sotheby’s, ‘Catalog of Knights, Commanders and Officers of the Order of the Holy Spirit,’ Auctions, Lot 38, 2009, Accessed 31 July 2017.

References

1 David Wilkinson ‘Osborne, Francis, fifth duke of Leeds (1751–1799)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, online edn, Jan 2008, accessed 31 July 2017.

[3.] The Getty Research Institute, ‘Sale Catalog Br-A2164’, The Getty Provenance Index Database, ac-cessed 31 July 2017.

[4.] Royal Collection UK, ‘ Louys le Simple 21 Duc de Brabant. Charles le Gros 22 Duc de Bra-bant. Othon 23 Duc de Brabant… ’ Collections, accessed 31 July 2017.

[5.] Online Computer Library Center World Catalogue, ‘Chronologie Collée’, notes, accessed 31 Jul 2017.

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Revolutionary theatre is a risk worth taking

Bright pink poster with white outlines of people protesting, some are holding up placards. Orange "La Mama Company" written at top of poster
‘La Mama Company’ poster, 1969, designed by Ian McClausand, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109.00049

Looking back at La Mamas’ 50-year history, from inception in 1967 when Betty Burstall created an ‘immediate’ theatre space in Melbourne inspired by New York’s La Mama Experimental Theatre Club, reveals not only the rise of an Australian theatre nurtured by local talent, but a larger portrait of Australian society and culture. As challenges to cultural and social norms reverberated around the globe, alternative voices in the arts were becoming a powerful form of political and social engagement. Burstall was confident that, just like in New York, Melbourne performers and audiences wanted and needed a place for avant-garde theatre, progressive music, poetry and screenings of alternative film. She wanted audiences to feel that every time they descended the stairs to the stage, that it was “a risk worth taking”.[1]

In a company newsletter from October 1969 this vision was expanded: La Mama would be a theatre to make possible “a new audience-actor relationship. It was informal, direct, immediate. It was also a playwrights’ theatre…where you could hear what people now were thinking and feeling”.[2]   With a policy to present new Australian work, the move was financially risky in an arts scene dominated by the mainstream canon of mainly American and English work. “Revolutionary things are happening in theatre today and I want them here”.[3]  Burstall’s ambitions for La Mama were grand, but almost immediately the revolution began, namely in the form of pushing the boundaries of the Summary Offenses Act 1966.

Photograph of actors in an alley changing dialogue for the play "Whatever Happened to Realism"
‘Obscenity charges over new play’ The Australian, 22/12/69, La Mama collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109.00019

The earliest offender was the 1968 production of Alex Buzo’s Norm and Ahmed. The final line of dialogue “fucking boongs” is delivered by Norm to Ahmed, a Pakistani student, and saw actor Lindsey Smith arrested for using obscene language, and the play’s producer Graeme Blundell charged with aiding and abetting Smith.[4] Some five decades on and the play is perhaps even more relevant because of the offensive racial slur.

A year later, John Romeril’s Whatever Happened to Realism resulted in the conviction of nine actors for using obscene language in a public place. After a private viewing of the play, magistrate H. Bennet conceded that they were sincere in their protest against censorship, “The play, as far as I can follow, intends to show that actors and playwrights are restricted in portraying life by censorship, because of words deemed to be offensive or obscene. However, the play can be enacted just as forcibly without the singing or use of the words in question”.[5] The audience expressed their disagreement with the magistrate, following the arrested to the police station, chanting the offensive four letter word, amongst others.

Blue and white poster for Greek music night at La Mama. The performers were Tassos and Ionnidis Christos.
“Neo Kyma” poster, 1977, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109.00050

Still, La Mama continued supporting Australian writers, actors and directors, providing a place where collaboration was centre-stage. Stalwarts of the Australian theatre scene like Jack Hibberd, David Williamson and Graeme Blundell, were given the chance to practice and develop their craft, as were other performance artists, such as filmmakers Corinne and Arthur Cantrill.

In the decades following the ‘obscenity trials’, La Mama continued pushing audiences, exploring concepts of identity, and elevating voices of the silenced. Playwrights such as Mammad Aidani and Tes Lyssiotis used this platform to chronicle the variety of the migrant experience, whilst in 1990, Aboriginal actor comedian Gnarnayarrahe Immurry Waitairie and director Ray Mooney explored the relationship between black and white Australian cultures in their play Pundulumura: Two Trees Together.

The onstage events however are only part of what the La Mama archive preserves. Over 100 boxes of material spanning 1967-2006 was listed during a three-year project with volunteers from La Mama, culminating in detailed lists of records available via the University of Melbourne Archive’s online catalogue. These records represent the important narrative of women in leadership roles in the arts, Liz Jones took over as artistic director in 1977, and the story of a business not obsessed with profit survived, and thrived, for 50 years.

Local issues such as the inner-city property market boom forcing the 2008 Save La Mama Campaign, the relentless struggle to find funding, and formal recognition as a place of significant Victorian heritage, are played out through business and administrative records. A collection of theatre posters illustrates trends in art and printing, featuring lino cuts by Tim Burstall amongst a wild variety of style and quality, some still with holes left by the staples used to distribute them on light poles.

The archive also sheds light on the suburb of Carlton and La Mama’s historic role as a place for its diverse residents to express themselves. Migrant Greek and Italian communities found a home for weekly music and poetry gatherings and Burstall and Jones gave neighbouring student populations a forum to experiment with new ideas.

From the first donation of records in 1977, UMA has seen its relationship with La Mama as a valuable one, not only for volunteer projects and exhibitions but in maintaining a comprehensive record of Melbourne’s theatre history. The La Mama archive complements that of the Union Theatre Repertory Company which evolved into Melbourne Theatre Company, as well as smaller collections of ephemera from the late 19th century to the 1960s.

A selection of records and production posters from the La Mama archive is currently displayed on the ground floor of Arts West at the University of Melbourne.

 

[1] Liz Jones; with Betty Burstall and Helen Garner, La Mama: the story of a theatre (Fitzroy: McPhee Gribble, 1988), 2.

[2] La Mama newsletter, October 1969, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109, Unit 1, Item 1

[3] Handwritten notes by Liz Jones for “La Mama: the story of a theatre”, 1988, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1998.0110, Unit 19, Item 110.

[4] “Magistrate goes to see play”, The Australian, 24 July 1969, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109, Unit 3, Item 19.

[5] “Actors were obscene, but sincere says SM” The Australian, 3 December 1969, La Mama Collection, University of Melbourne Archives, 1977.0109, Unit 3, Item 19.

From beauty to war: reproducing The Judgement of Paris

The Judgement of Paris (1510-20) is an engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi (c. 1470-1482 – c. 1534) after a drawing by Raphael (1483–1520). It elicited many keen glances and enthusiastic comments from audiences when it was brought out for both public programs and classes at the Baillieu Library. It also proved to be a popular image during and after it was made in the 16th century; some scholars claim that it is the most famous engraving of the Renaissance. It was also sought out by collectors and the Print Collection holds three different copies of this one image.

When it emerges from the safety of its storage box, it is typically examined in the context of two key questions: what is it depicting, and what is its significance? One academic recently described it as the forerunner to the Trojan War: a startling contrast to its main subject of a beauty contest. Many of the great ancient world figures are gathered in this scene; the title role plays out at left where the Trojan Paris judges the beauty of the goddesses Athena (Minerva), Hera (Juno) and Aphrodite (Venus). Aphrodite emerges the winner because she offers the most desirable bribe, promising Paris the most beautiful mortal in the world, Helen of Troy, wife of Menelaos, King of Sparta. The union of Paris and Helen is the event which sets the Trojan War in motion. The figures at left are derived from a Hellenistic sarcophagus. [1.] The river gods depicted at right also strike a familiar chord in the canon of Western imagery, as Manet borrowed its composition for his painting Luncheon on the grass (1863).

Not only was the engraving a success for its composition and subjects, it also represents a change to the traditional role of printmaking. This print is classified as a reproductive print, or one that ‘copies’ another work of art, in this case a design by Raphael that has subsequently been lost. Before Marcantonio entered the printmaking arena, artists were often producing prints as original, albeit multiple works of art. The collaboration between Marcantonio and Raphael opened up a new dimension: the art of reproduction. They embarked upon the business of reproduction, and the repercussions of this intellectual property war are still at the front line of creative practices today.

 Raphael by Marcantonio Raimondi, (1517-20)

According to Giorgio Vasari, after seeing the prints of Albrecht Dürer, Raphael was inspired to set about his own printmaking venture. Raphael established a printmaking business with Marcantonio producing engravings after his paintings. Some, including The Judgement of Paris, were designed especially to be made into an engraving. Their enterprise gave rise to the long history of the reproductive print and the print selling trade. Marcantonio’s chief protégés were Marco Dente (Marco da Ravenna) and Agostino Musi (Agostino Veneziano) who also made reproductive prints, sometimes after their own master Marcantonio. When comparing impressions of The Judgement of Paris from the Baillieu’s Print Collection, subtle differences may be found. The darker impression has been identified as an early impression by Marcantonio, whereas the two lighter versions are careful later copies made by his student Marco Dente.[2] Images such as The Judgement of Paris convey a rich and complex lineage of production and reproduction.

 

The Judgement of Paris is on display in the Arts West lab during semester two.

 

 

Kerrianne Stone Curator, Prints

References

[1] Lisa Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi : copying and the Italian Renaissance print, New Haven: Yale University Press, c2004, p. 1

[2] Susan Lambert, The image multiplied: five centuries of printed reproductions of paintings and drawings, London: Trefoil Publications, 1987, p. 65

Philip Sousa marches out of town

Blue Art Nouveau design of a women holding a lute, surrounded by birds.
Cover of Sousa and his band, programmes 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, University of Melbourne Archives, Alex Whitmore collection, 1975.0065

In 1911 Australian music lovers were treated to a lengthy tour by American composer and conductor Philip Sousa, along with his 55 piece band.  The band toured the world for 352 days, and was at that time, the most extensive tour made by such a large band.

Most have likely heard Sousa’s distinctive style; mostly military and patriotic marches, although could not name him as composer. The official march of the United States of America, “Stars and Stripes For Ever” will have you marching with vigour, and was likely a stirring piece for Australian audiences.

Found in the Alex Whitmore collection are the 12 programs for concerts held in Australia. Melbourne’s July concerts in the Royal Exhibition Building were sell outs and the band played two concerts in Ballarat, before heading to the rest of the eastern cities and continuing to New Zealand. Sousa, ever the crowd pleaser and passionate composer, premiered a new march, “The Federal” on this tour, dedicating it to all ‘Australasians’.

Black and white, head and shoulders portrait of John Philip Sousa in military attire.
Portrait of John Philip Sousa, from programmes 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, University of Melbourne Archives, Alex Whitmore collection, 1975.0065

Occupying an entire page in the program is a list of “Sousa Sayings”. Reinforcing his reputation as the most famous American composer of the Romantic –era these sayings include such gems as “A musical instrument is a good deal like a gun – much depends on the man behind it”, “Music, mathematics and babies are the only original packages”, and “The music of the future? To the man who writes there is no such thing; it is the music of the now”.

References: Sousa and his band, bound programs, c.1911, University of Melbourne, Alex Whitmore Collection, 1975.0065, Unit 1

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