Ebook Gallery

– Marilyn Monroe*

Shoes! Glorious Shoes! (If I may be as bold as to twist Oliver’s words a little…) As nearly every teenage girl and woman will tell you, shoes are fantastically important. Mainly, because they’re just fantastic. But think about it, the love of a good or pretty shoe (the best combine beauty and comfort) is reflected throughout history. For the purposes of this blog, history includes fairytales…

See the joy on those women’s faces? Look guys, the man on the left: he’s happy as Larry! Maybe he is Larry…The point is, there is more joy in giving than receiving. Take note, and apply to shoe-giving.

Where would Cinderella be without her glass slipper? Where would Puss be without his boots? Hermes would have been a great deal less effective as a messenger god without his winged sandals. And the Old woman who lived in a shoe? Well, she would be out on the streets for certain!

But as well as providing fodder for fairytales and mythology, shoes also help us to track sociological changes with the help of evolving fashions through the centuries.

For example, did you know that the first recorded images of shoes are 15,000 years old? These are in the form of Spanish cave paintings, and it can easily be imagined that fashions have changed somewhat along the way. The materials from which shoes were made indicated the wealth and perhaps lifestyle of the owner; rawhide was the cheapest and most common a few thousand years ago, providing a sturdy and protective shoe. Leather was later used, creating a more malleable shoe, but one which was still plain. The use of silk for shoes indicated wealth and penchant for style – this was for shoes which were made to be admired, not practical.

Shoe styles through the centuries and millennia have changed, it is true. However, we clutch on to the past through our current shoe fashions. You must remember the Roman gladiator-sandal that was (is?) so in vogue only a couple of summers ago. Then, we revisited the love of the platform as so openly loved by ABBA in the seventies. As for the Ugg boot, who knew that Australian farmer shoes would become the big thing? But seriously, enough is enough, let’s move on please.

Italian Renaissance Chopine
Venice
16th century

But what types of shoes would we LIKE to see making a comeback? There are conflicting opinions on moonboots it is true. Personally, I am in the NO camp. Perhaps Galoshes? If Lady Gaga were to wear them, I am sure they would catch on in a heartbeat. Or, perhaps if Victoria Beckham were to design a contemporary ‘Mary Jane’? I bet that’d catch on pretty fast too. But what I’d really like to see making its way back onto the High Street are Italian Renaissance (Chopine) shoes. Or, as I like to call them, Horse-hoof shoes. After all, who hasn’t wanted to legitimately clomp down the street, whilst looking fabulous? Move over Mr Tumnus!

* Marilyn wasn’t a fan of left shoes.

For an iron-clad excuse to drool over shoes (c’mon guys, not literally!) head over to The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Decide for yourselves which shoe style YOU want to see become popular again. The permanent exhibition Shoes in The Costume Institute will entice you again and again (if you’re anything like me).However, if that isn’t enough to tempt you outdoors on a chilly winter’s day, cosy up to a copy of Klaus Carl’s Shoes.

I started learning French about ten months ago. It was an idea that I toyed with for the ridiculously large span of one to thirteen years prior (when it was offered in middle school and my dearest mother thought Spanish would prove more useful in my future and made me study it instead – I will neither agree or disagree with that point all of these years later). Initially this venture, ten months ago, started out of spite – I was surrounded by French speakers and could never get a word in edgewise because I never knew what the hell they were talking about. I planned to learn it the best I could, without telling them of course, and then shock everyone when I was well-versed enough to call them out on their merde.

I relate to this look all too well.
Balthus (Balthazar Klossowski), Thérèse, 1938.
Oil on cardboard mounted on wood, 100.3 x 81.3 cm.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Needless to say that never happened as one cannot learn a language in ten months without actually eating, sleeping, and breathing it (I have a life, after all). I do listen harder and repeat phrases in my head. I bother French speakers with inane grammatical and pronunciation questions. Sometimes immature young men will teach me a phrase or two and send me off to repeat it to another immature guy and they’ll all have a giggle at my expense, leaving me supremely embarrassed, but equally proud of my ability to mimic.

My namesake was French!
Claude Gellee (Le Lorrain), Coast View with Apollo and the Cumaean Sibyl, 1645-1649.
Oil on canvas, 99.5 x 127 сm.
Collection of Sir Robert Walpole, The State Heritage Museum, St Petersburg.

For the longest time I never had a single nice thing to say about anything French – except maybe Amélie, but that doesn’t really count considering its international notoriety. I don’t care for frog’s legs, snail, or duck confit; I don’t really enjoy Impressionism, mostly because endlessly repeated titles make fact-checking a nightmare; call me Guy de Maupassant when it comes to the Eiffel Tower (fun fact: Maupassant ate at the Tower’s base daily because he hated it so and that was the only place in the city that he was unable to see it); do not get me started on roquefort, maroilles, or epoisses (ugh, ick, bleh).

Hippolyte Flandrin, Young Man Sitting by the Sea, figure study, 1836.
Oil on canvas, 98 x 124 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

Thankfully now, I could probably rustle up a few nice things to say – the politeness of gentlemen, Realist and Romantic paintings, the frankness of women, the invention of the guillotine, etc. I am most especially in awe of the vast collection of art housed in France and could probably spend one week in the Musée du Louvre and neither see enough or tire of it.

Since most of us don’t have the time, money, language skills, or (if you’re like me) patience to endure France, visit the National Gallery of Art, Washington to see Color, Line, Light: French Drawings, Watercolors, and Pastels from Delacroix to Signac from 27 January to 26 May. It promises a beautiful array of French art. Don’t want to travel too far from home? Check out French Painting by Victoria Charles for all of the artistic glamour without the offensive cheeses.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

How does one gain immortality these days? No, this is actually a serious question! For the Ancient Egyptians, they took the important person’s corpse, removed the intestines and the other major decomposable parts (excepting the heart of course… every rookie embalmer knows that!), dried the body out with natron*, stuffed it with sawdust, wrapped it in linen, placed it in a couple of coffins, and then put it inside a large sarcophagus**. Easy. Then, they left the now-mummified body, erected a gigantic marking stone (obviously why the pyramids were built), and voila: today practically everybody and their grandmother knows the name of Tutankhamen. Not bad for a 5,000 year-old mummy!

However, in today’s society many people like to achieve fame, notoriety, and assurance of impending immortality (or at least of an immortalised image) whilst they’re still alive. I know, weird, right?! Thus, we are faced with the likes of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian (congratulations on the baby news by the way).

Johannes Vermeer
Girl with a Pearl Earring, c. 1665.
Oil on canvas, 44.5 x 39 cm.
Mauritshuis, The Hague.

Then again, some people achieve fame, notoriety, and assurance of immortality quite involuntarily. How? You might legitimately be wondering. Well, by serving as a muse. For instance, where would Leonardo da Vinci be without the woman who sat for the Mona Lisa? The mysterious girl who was the inspiration for Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring –brought to further recognition with the 2003 film of the same name, portrayed as she was by Scarlett Johansson. The actress has also been a muse in her own right: to Woody Allen. What started out as collaboration for Match Point (2005), evolved into further collaborations for Scoop (2006), and the lauded Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008). Speaking of Woody Allen, he is the modern master of the muse. Who could forget Dianne Keaton in Annie Hall (1977), or Mia Farrow in Alice (1990)?

In recent art history, Andy Warhol’s great and troubled muse Edie Sedgwick appeared in many of his short films, whilst Kate Moss has become one of art and fashion’s greatest muses. Of greatest note perhaps are the works she inspired from Lucian Freud, Chuck Close, and Banksy.

Henri Matisse
The Italian Woman (L’Italienne)
1916.
Oil on canvas, 116.7 x 89.5 cm.
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York

Be that as it may, perhaps one of the most under-appreciated muses of art history is Matisse’s muse: Lorette. Before Lorette, Matisse was often to be found painting still life and landscapes. Lorette provided the inspiration for Matisse to develop a rich and flowing colour palette and sense of line. An increased intimacy with the subject can also be seen; over the period of 7-8 months of Lorette’s modelling for Matisse, we see her expressions change from wary to inviting. With this professional Italian model, Matisse was ready to abandon abstractionism. After painting Lorette around fifty times during the months that she modelled for him, he took his habit of obsessive painting with him to his future collaborations with models.

Henri Matisse
Lorette in a green dress on black background

I believe that it truly can be said that without the influence of Lorette, Matisse might well not have evolved into the same famed and revered artist that we know today. And Lorette? We do not know what became of her, but she is certainly recognised today – and all because of the fact that she was Matisse’s muse.

*Fun fact: did you know natron is 17% baking soda? Kids: Do not try this at home!

** Disclaimer: This is not a step-by-step guide on how to mummify someone in case you were wondering.

To view more of Matisse’s muses, and to see how they influenced his painting, check out the Metropolitan Museum, New York. The exhibition Matisse: In Search of True Paintings is being held until March 17^th 2013. If New York is a little out of the budget, don’t fear! The books Flowers and Still Life by Victoria Charles chart several masters’ work on the subjects, including that of Matisse. Familiarise yourself with the abstract and the use of line, to fully understand and appreciate the brilliant early work of Matisse.

Online profiles are essentially shameless self-promotion – things you like, things you do, endless photos of yourself, etc. However, I find when my skinny friends post too many photos of themselves in swimsuits, or newly-engaged friends post endless photos of rings and partners, and my married friends post hundreds of photos of their new babies, I start to feel badly about myself. That’s not to say that I’m not doing cool things or that I want children (Any. Time. Soon.), but sites like Facebook have opened many doors to jealousy, self-loathing, and endless comparison of ourselves to others. Stop it!

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait, 1910.
Gouache, watercolour, and black pencil, 44.3 x 30.6 cm.
Leopold Museum, Vienna.

You know who would have been shamelessly good at Facebooking and making his peers feel like underachieving sloths? Egon Schiele. He started drawing at a very young and tender age, and while progressing in style and skill throughout the years, he maintained his edgy, in-your-face view of society and the human body. Review the bold words. Anyone come to mind? Honey Boo Boo, right?! Based on the lives of so many other ‘child stars’ – who, mind you, were on written shows, not facing the nearly frightening, redneck reality of Macon, Georgia – how can we ever expect ‘normalcy’ for that poor girl?

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Chinese Lantern Plant, 1912.
Oil and gouache on wood, 32.2 x 39.8 cm.
Leopold Museum, Vienna.

Fortunately, I suppose, depending on how you feel about overpopulation, the world is much better equipped to deal with plagues, flues, and cholera, and so we’re less likely to lose talented artists in their prime because of illness. I could argue that there are some “artists” that we could bear to mourn, but would likely do better to keep such opinions to myself. (I know you thought of someone!) We’ll just have to stick out this reality television and self-promotional social networking phenomenon until they blow over. Until then, read a book or go to a museum. Give Facebook a rest because, frankly, you’re annoying me.

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Arms Pulled Back, 1915.
Charcoal and pastel, 44 x 32 cm.
E.W. Kornfeld Collection.

Schiele would have had an impossibly difficult time posting all of his crude and vulgar self-portraits on Facebook, and his friends would have been better off for it, despite their raw beauty and allure. See the way he transformed his work throughout his short life at The Metamorphoses of Egon Schiele, on permanent exhibition at the Leopold Museum, Vienna. Pick up this heart-wrenchingly illustrated book, Schiele by Jeanette Zwingenberger, for a closer look.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

It was Christopher Marlowe who coined the infamous line regarding Helen of Troy; ‘the face that launched a thousand ships’.

I have to say, I do feel sorry for Helen! Put in a position where she was, effectively, responsible for a ten-year war, loss of lives, and the sacking of a city. I ask: was it even her choice to leave Menelaus? Sure, the story goes that she and Paris fell in love and escaped Sparta and her husband by fleeing to Troy. But, really, what if this wasn’t the true story? What if she was actually in love with Menelaus, and was just kidnapped by Paris? Admittedly, if Paris looked like Orlando Bloom in Troy – and let’s face it, with a brother-in-law like Eric Bana… – fair enough, she might well have decided to go.

BUT… this is all Hollywood conjecture. Menelaus could well have been the Channing Tatum of his day, or, admittedly a character who was a little older; Brad Pitt say. Who’s to say he wasn’t? Throw in charming, persistent, influential (hey, he did win Helen’s hand over all her other suitors, right?!), and you’ve got the beginnings of a pretty good match. Additionally, he was friends with Odysseus, who strikes me as a very decent guy (anyone not familiar with The Odyssey and his ten-year journey to get back to his wife and child, you’re missing out!), now, I may be reading too much into it, but I don’t think Odysseus would have been so loyal to an undeserving man. Paris – the young and brash fellow that he was, obviously did not have that much good sense, and on top of that was selfish. Seriously, endangering your whole country for the sake of one woman (who may not actually have wanted to go with him)… that is not an attractive quality in my opinion. You see, Helen had a lot to put up with!

Leonardo da Vinci
Mona Lisa (La Gioconda), c. 1503-1506.
Oil on poplar panel, 77 x 53 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

But it is true, that for many of us, beauty is blinding. A beautiful face (sadly) offers a free pass to many things in life, whether it is a cancelled parking ticket, free entry to a club, or free dinner/groceries/drinks, you name it. It has happened. And will happen again. But this is shallow beauty. Once you have met beauty, invariably, you also meet the beast. A pretty exterior unfortunately often comes with an ugly interior – shallowness, vanity, selfishness. This, of course, is not always the case, and I’m sure that many people would say, very rarely the case. But think about it, a face filled with character, one which is not classically beautiful, may often be much more intriguing than that which we have been told is classically beautiful.

Michelangelo
David, 1504.
Marble, 434 cm.
Galleria dell’Academia, Florence.

Take the Mona Lisa – I’d go as far to say that she is not beautiful, but she is certainly enigmatic! She has been a mystery for centuries… who or what inspired her smile?

In a similar manner, The Laughing Cavalier also causes great speculation. Whilst Michelangelo’s David is supposed to be the bees’ knees in terms of masculine perfection, in my opinion, The Laughing Cavalier is far more interesting – all because of the facial expression.

Helen of Troy, I fear, in all her beauty, lacked this quality of unusualness. It is for this reason (I admit, this is my own personal speculation) why she was regarded as a possession rather than a person: to be stolen away, and then fought over, like a child’s toy. Is this the future that anybody actually aspires to when they wish for beauty? The expression ‘Be careful what you wish for’ springs to mind!

To appreciate the beauty of the unusual and the enigmatic, the BP Portrait Awards exhibition at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery is the must-see exhibition of the New Year. On display until January 27^th, 2013, the very best of contemporary portraits showcase the beautiful, the tender, the surprising, and the insightful renderings of the artists’ perceptions of themselves and the people around them. Not to be missed, there is no excuse not to see this inspirational exhibit, especially as it is free of charge! However, if you really cannot make it to Edinburgh, do the next best thing, and check out 1000 Portraits of Genius, written by Victoria Charles and Klaus H. Carl. In this book you will be able to find for yourselves the quirks and the idiosyncrasies which make a face memorable or not: who will become your new Mona Lisa?

At first glance I thought this exhibition was about something else entirely – bodies covered in tattoos (to which I am entirely approving). But now that I am well informed, I’ve got some things to say. Are photographs art? Sure, sometimes, certainly not all the time, just have a look at my memory card. But are they Art, capital A, meant to be scrutinised, reviewed, and studied for centuries to come? I’m not so sure.

(I’d rather see the Maja nude than, say, Kim Kardashian)
Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, The Nude Maja, 1797-1800.
Oil on canvas, 98 x 191 cm.
Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid.

Painting is an expression of one’s mind, heart, and imagination. The colours we interpret, the way things make us feel, whatever happens to be going through our heads at a particular moment in time. Paintings are created by hand and, arguably, soul. Photographs, on the other hand, are, while surely manipulated by a human force, created by machine. And so, does this pave a path for us to compare Delacroix’s images of rape and murder in Death of Sardanapalus to a photograph of a seemingly “broken” woman strewn across a bed (Tom Hunter’s Death of Coltelli)? I would say not.

(Even I would model for Degas!)
Edgar Degas, Woman with a Towel, 1894 or 1898.
Pastel on cream-coloured wove paper with red and blue fibres throughout, 95.9 x 76.2 cm.
H.O. Havemeyer Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A painting allows for the deepest expression of whatever feeling the artist wishes to convey. He can make a woman look desperate and torn apart, he can make a man look smug and in control (both references to Sardanapalus); he can make a troublesome child appear angelic and shade the curves of a woman just so to make her appear sensual rather than vulgar. A photographer can only hope to have such a good model to portray the image inside his mind, and even then, we know they’re just pretending – because, in all honesty, what cruel being would take a photo of someone that has been raped, murdered, or committed suicide and call it Art?

(If you are going to photograph a nude, I’d prefer classy, not – uncomfortable.)
Julian Mandel, Early postcard of Kiki de Montparnasse, c. 1925.
14 x 9 cm.

I simply do not believe that a photograph, while worth 1000 words, has the chops to stand next to the great Masterpieces. Visit The National Gallery, London now through 20 Jan to see Seduced by Art. Let us know if you believe the Old Master’s can possibly be compared, side by side, to photographic imitations. Whether you have a penchant for photographs or painted landscapes, you’re covered: Erotic Photography by Klaus H. Carl, Still Life by Victoria Charles, Nudes by Jp. A. Calosse, Landscapes by Émile Michel.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

For those of us who have never been to Japan, we can only picture the beautiful vista of the Land of the Rising Sun with the help of popular films such as Memoirs of a Geisha, Babel, The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, Lost in Translation, and The Last Samurai.

For me, it was Memoirs of a Geisha which truly began my love affair with Japan. (Although, Tom Cruise did give it his best effort!) A hauntingly beautiful story, love, betrayal, hope, the mystery of the Orient: despite the controversy of a Chinese actress portraying a Japanese geisha, I personally feel that Zhang Ziyi was perfectly cast. To top all of this off, the viewer is treated to a beautiful love letter to the country of Japan, in the form of stunning cinematography. Truly, this is the film that inspires my desire to travel to Japan.

Scarlet Maple Trees at Mama by the Tekona-no yashiro Shrine and the Tsugihashi Bridge,
Mama-no momiji Tekona-no yachting Tsugihashi (1/1857)

However, as I was researching around the topic of travel in Japan, I discovered that the world’s love affair with this country is not a recent phenomenon. In an earlier blog, I mentioned that Van Gogh, in the 1880s, discovered the Japanese ukiyo-e wood block prints, which he soon began to collect and reproduce for his own paintings.

The “Opening of the Mountain” at the Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine,
Fukagawa Hachiman yamabiraki (8/1857)

Let us look for a moment at the artist who inspired these paintings: Utagawa Hiroshige. The original poster-boy (literally) for Japanese tourism, his paintings showcase the travels which he undertook across Japan. Filled with detail, delicate brushstrokes, and occasionally a dash of humour, these paintings are what advertisements for travel agencies (ahem, Thomas Cook) should aspire to be like. Hiroshige’s love for his homeland is evident and, what’s more, he has mastered the ability to stir the same passions in non-natives. This is the characteristic which is shared by Rob Marshall, Zhang Ziyi, Michelle Yeoh, and Ken Watanabe (amongst the rest of the cast and crew of Memoirs) who gave us the live-action version of Hiroshige’s homage to his homeland.

So, watch this space… I may yet be embarking on my own pilgrimage to Japan, all thanks to Memoirs of a Geisha and the stunning artwork of Hiroshige!

The Taikobashi Bridge and Yuhinooka Hill in Meguro,
Meguro Taikobashi Yuhinooka (4/1857)

For those of you, like me, who may find Japan just a trifle too far for a day-trip; why not peruse the works of Hiroshige in the Pinacothèque de Paris? The exhibition Hiroshige, the Art of Travel is running until the 17^th March 2013, so there is plenty of time to enjoy Paris in the springtime (or before), and take in a bit of Japanese culture at the same time! Otherwise, curl up with a good book: Hiroshige, by Mikhail Uspensky to be precise! Or, if you would simply like to know more about the art of ukiyo-e and would like to broaden your horizons, try out Hokusai by Edmond de Goncourt.

I will neither confirm nor deny any drugs I may or may not have experimented with in the past. In the present, I find many intriguing and interesting, despite being unsure of the things they’ll do to an already over-active mind and imagination – but again will not admit what they are.

(This is your brain … on drugs. Does anyone else remember that PSA from the 1980s/1990s?)
Salvador Dalí, Eggs on the Plate without the Plate, 1932.
Oil on canvas, 60.3 x 41.9 cm.
The Dalí Museum, St Petersburg (Florida).

Whilst bad, and mind altering, sometimes forever, various drugs are at the very forefront of the entertainment industry. Walt and Jesse are nearly household names because of their mad skillz (I hope you heard that in Aaron Paul’s voice) as meth cooks on Breaking Bad. Mary Louise Parker has given so many of us a soft spot for the middle-class single mother that is forced to sling drugs in Weeds. The Wire took a groundbreaking look at inner-city dealings and addictions (on all sides of the spectrum). And, of course, whatever the heck V in True Blood is meant to mimic. Meanwhile, Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen are in and out of trouble for cocaine use. Whitney Houston MAY have overdosed from prescription pills or crack. But, friends, where are the hallucinogens?!

Salvador Dalí, Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), 1936.
Oil on canvas, 99.9 x 100 cm.
Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia.

Reviewing Salvador Dalí’s work, every single time, without fail, makes me question what’s been slipped into my beverage (or brownies). The melting and sliding images of obscure sizes and shapes make my skin crawl in a way that only a proper hallucinogen can – or so I imagine. Not to mention his bizarre obsession with ants, which appear so innocent as they skitter across our counters and up our walls that we don’t take them very seriously, but really – why don’t we? I cannot delve further into their utter disregard for human space and existence for fear of not being able to sleep tonight. But know that I do not find them harmless.

Salvador Dalí, The Temptation of Saint Anthony, 1946.
Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 119.5.
Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels.

Dalí made it very clear: “I don’t do drugs. I am drugs.” And fine, I respect that. But wouldn’t you agree that being as full of yourself as he was, perhaps he was his own drug? A bit too much serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins – simply too much everything? Get off of your ridiculously long-legged high horse, Dalí, and paint something the rest of us can relate to, you pompous, self-absorbed, egotistic maniac. Good day.

Feel like you’re on drugs without the terrible next-day comedown while getting your fill of melting clocks, long-legged horses, and women from behind at Le Centre Pompidou through 25 March. Bring my nightmares home with you in The Life and Masterworks of Salvador Dalí by Eric Shanes.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Death: one of life’s greatest mysteries, and therefore one of people’s greatest fears.

Whilst many peoples and civilisations turn to religion and faith to answer the question of the meaning of life, and the purpose of death, and whether or not life after death exists, the prospect of the actual process of dying causes fear and trepidation.

Although we cannot know for sure what the exact experience of death holds for us, many people do take comfort in the knowledge that heaven, or an afterlife, awaits them. Why, therefore, is the prospect of death such a scary one?

Rembrandt
The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, 1632.
Oil on canvas, 169.5 x 216.5 cm.
Mauritshuis, The Hague.

Perhaps it is the fear of leaving the known, of leaving people behind, or the fear of pain in passing. Whatever it is, one thing is certain: death is one thing we cannot escape. As Brad Pitt discovered, in his extremely good turn as Joe Black in Meet Joe Black (a straightforward title if ever there was one), the only two things certain in this life are death and taxes.

Unfortunately, the probability that death will greet us in the form of Brad Pitt is extremely remote (I’m not giving up hope though….), so let us turn away from Hollywood’s interpretation of death, and take a peek at how past celebrities interpreted it.

Being an art blog, these celebrities will of course be artists such as Rembrandt and, perhaps surprisingly, Monet. Both of these artists painted death, or dying, as a means of trying to understand what it meant.

Rembrandt painted his famous Anatomy Lesson as a means to pay homage to both the doctor (Nicolaes Tulp), as well as to the science of dissection. Death had become a teaching tool, allowing others to learn from the bodies left behind.

Claude Monet
Camille on Her Deathbed, 1879.
Oil on canvas, 90 x 68 cm.
Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

However, Monet’s interpretation of death is a lot less clinical, and we can really feel the depth of emotion that the artist is putting into his work. Camille on Her Deathbed is a painting of his wife – and it is as if he is trying to come to terms with her passing, and trying to understand why she has left him. It is this emotion which resonates through the ages, and is something which I think everybody can identify with.

Ultimately, I think death is something not to be feared, but when life is cut short it is the hardest for those that are left behind. But as we mourn the loss of our friends, loved ones, life-long companions, let us also celebrate the time that we have been able to share together, and be thankful for the privilege of being able to know them. And finally, let us not forget, but keep their memories alive with us.

To discover how the mystery of death has been portrayed over the years, the Wellcome Collection, London, is the perfect place to start. Death: A Self-Portrait is the exhibition which is getting everybody talking, so why not find out for yourself what all the fuss is about? On display until the 24^th February 2013, this is one collection that you do not want to miss! If you would like to discover more about how the masters treated the subject of death and the afterlife, look no further than Art of the Devil by Arturo Graf. Alternatively, to discover what Rembrandt was all about, check out Harmensz van Rijn Rembrandt by Emile Michel.

At first this topic had my mind atwitter; I mean how often does a girl get to write about naked men outside of her bedroom? Not that I believe there’s anything particularly aesthetically pleasing about the male physique below the happy/snail/treasure trail; maybe I’m a sucker for a nice bum, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss. Nor do I spend my private time writing about nude male bodies, and even if I did, you couldn’t prove it.

Given the opportunity to pick famous men I wouldn’t mind seeing naked, I would say: Channing Tatum? Yes, please. Donald Glover? Abso-freaking-lutely. Joseph Gordon Levitt? Please and thank you. John Cho-know-I-would. And, for our older crowd, I’d appreciate a little Benjamin Bratt (pun absolutely intended). Though, discussing this with a colleague, I’ve concluded that while I would enjoy seeing Tatum in the buff under any circumstance, I’d rather see JGL in the sensual privacy of my own home.

Large Sleeping Satyr (“Barberinischer Faun”), c. 220 BCE
Marble, height: 215 cm.
Glyptothek, Munich.

The longer I thought about the topic though (we’re talking at least a week of reviewing male nudes here, nothing but the best research for our readers), the more confused I became. We live in a society that fawns over the nude female body – heck, I’ve even blogged about it – but what about the male body? In film, art, television, and billboards, exposed female curves are everywhere, whether in bits and pieces or full on (to the point in which we need to discuss body image with our sisters/daughters/nieces). We’ve all seen Basic Instinct. However, the double standard remains. Is it because men find other male bodies threatening or uncomfortable? Is it the absurd fear of “catching” homosexuality, as if that were even possible? Women make up half of the consumer market – can’t you try and lure us in with the promise of naked men?

Ginch Gonch, Boys and Toy Bikes, advertising campaign.

I’ve always had the pleasure, or displeasure depending on how you look at it, of male housemates, including growing up with a brother. They were able to openly walk around without shirts and in their underwear, whilst I was discomfited into wearing a bra in my own home. Ladies, help me out, isn’t the most amazing time of day those five seconds after you’ve finally removed your bra? I’ve actually gone so far as to say, “Sorry friend, I can’t come out tonight; I’ve already taken my bra off.” My point being, this is a society that tells women to remain covered or they’ll be slut shamed, but men can wear next to nothing as long as their junk is covered.

Andrew Christian, 9215 Gigolo Thong, Black.

Women shouldn’t be ashamed of their bodies or shy about them, and men, get over your ridiculous fear of other naked men. We’re all beautiful, robed or not, and nudity shouldn’t be a topic of exploitation. We’re born nude, why can’t we stay so? Hurry over to the Leopold Museum to see the nude men exhibition through 4 March. Not possible? Rather look at the goods in private? Get your hands on The Story of Men’s Underwear by Shaun Cole or Nudes by Jp. A. Calosse. You won’t be disappointed.

-Le Lorrain Andrews