The MFA Boston’s Department of Prints and Drawings houses a group of over 120 un- accessioned Soviet (and counter-Soviet) Chromo-Lithographs with some dating back to the late 19th Century through to the early 1930’s. This paper examines the pre-Stalinist literacy mandate top-down approach of visual and literary communication en masse at the onset of the USSR. This paper builds on my work as a Curatorial Intern at the MFA where I dated, translated and documented these images, attempting, also, to identify the time at which they came into the \ museum’s collection. This paper approaches propagandistic visual culture as collective identity-construction, this paper will highlight a pluralistic set of actors in early twentieth-century U.S.S.R. and posit a complex project of ideological state-building through the study of a shifting series of audiences spoken to (and for) by these prints. 

These lithographs employ regionalist dialects (sometimes non-Cyrillic scripts) and a shifting ‘self’ – a fluctuant voice, sometimes Tsarist, sometimes anti-royalist. Beyond ‘capturing a moment in time’, which they do, what I felt most curious about in engaging with these prints was this temporally evolving ‘I’ – the unstable self and the construction of an ‘other’. This took shape in complex encounters between party-specific think tanks and artists that were tasked with a ‘finger on the pulse’ like engagement with the narod (the masses). This paper outlines this dialectic tension of top-down and bottom-up approaches to self conceptualisation and attempts to rethink that paradigm entirely.

Polish painter Zdzisław Beksiński (1929-2005) pioneered the artistic style of dystopian surrealism, yet remains virtually unknown to art historians and the general public. His works appear fantastical and terrifyingly unrealistic, while still remaining rooted in reality enough to cause the viewer to fear the potential apocalypse depicted. The aspects of his paintings that leave the viewer in both astonishment and in terror are the same characteristics that tie his work to the Apocalyptic Sublime. The concept of the Sublime is the idea that some visuals appear so unnaturally grand that they transcend reality, leaving the viewer shocked and unable to express what they’re viewing. The Apocalyptic Sublime is used to define artworks that consist of grandiose visuals that terrorize the viewer, causing fear rather than admiration of beauty. Beksiński successfully does this, inspiring overwhelming anxiety and fear in his viewers by showing them visuals that are gory and horrific, yet reminiscent of real life enough to lead to the fear that this horror depicted could be our future. Beksiński’s use of both Catholic and WWII imagery deeply connects his works with Poland, a predominantly Catholic country ransacked and traumatized by the Holocaust. Through his Fantastic Series, Beksiński not only provides a modern relevance to the concept of the Sublime, which was thought by philosophers to be outdated by this time, but he also shows his affinity for his Polish home by providing the often-ignored county with artistic representation.

Helen Pashgian and Mary Corse are two female artists most associated with the Southern California Light and Space Movement. This loosely affiliated group of Los Angeles-based artists, the majority of whom were men, based their practices on exploring the perceptual experience of light by producing sculptures and installations with translucent or transparent materials. In the early sixties, resin became Pashgian’s primary material, while Mary Corse implemented reflective glass microbeads into her paintings and powered another of her series with Tesla coils. They each sought to create impermanently sublime works with refined and slick polished surfaces to stimulate the viewer at psychological, visual, and haptic levels. Although museums have shown their works together and separately, scholars have not thoroughly examined their practices concerning the urban and technological developments in Los Angeles towards the second half of the twentieth century.

My paper unites Pashgian and Corse by asking why Los Angeles was the ideal location for their practices. Through visually analyzing two works from separate series by each artist, I reveal how their material explorations were bound to their experience in the city. The extent to which they engaged in scientific fields and their general environment set them apart from their male counterparts. The dominating aerospace industry in Los Angeles afforded Pashgian efficient access to polyester resin and training on adequately handling it. Concurrently, the city’s growing freeway network impacted Corse’s acquisition of glass microbeads and supported her in learning how to operate Tesla coils. I extend my investigation by considering their proximity to the CalArts Feminist Art Program. I hope my research not only brings Pashgian and Corse into the conversation but also asserts their contributions of combining cutting-edge technology with art as part of the Southern California Light and Space Movement.

UPDATED: My talk examines the career, work, and design pedagogy of artist and illustrator, Virginia Lee Burton. Burton is known for her illustrated children’s books such as Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel, and The Little House. The renown of Burton’s books has reduced her to the role of children’s book illustrator and mother. This presentation will contextualize her understudied artistic oeuvre and design practice within the realms of illustration and print.

Burton founded and instructed a predominantly female printmaking group known as the Folly Cove Designers (FCD). Lasting 1938-1969 (Burton’s death), the FCD was a 25-year experiment conducted by Burton for her unpublished book, Design and How!, which would teach even the most inexperienced artist her theory of design. Assignments given to the FCD match exercises workshopped in her manuscript, proving that the FCD, a manifestation of her artistic practice, created a method of artistic expression for her students.

My presentation will study her pedagogy through practice-based research, completing every Design and How! exercise given to her students in the process of becoming an official FCD member. My analysis of her process and prints produced by her students will be based on D.B Dowd’s theory of the glyphic mode (or image-making oriented towards the symbolic primary forms of communication) to analyze the process and success of Burton’s teachings. I will address questions regarding how Burton devised her pedagogy, and what informed her. I will study the influence of Burton’s process, and how her aesthetic mode of creation gave her students a visual language by which to respond to the socio-political milieu of their time.

What first comes to mind when thinking about the visual language of diagrams are scientific charts found in textbooks explaining some complex organism or chemical processes. While diagrams are often used to explain real world phenomena, they are very rarely representational or visually accurate; instead, diagrams sacrifice their visual accuracy for readability. For example, a diagram of the human heart used in science publications is usually bright red and blue to represent its arteries, even while the heart itself is not actually those colors. In the context of such a diagram, what matters more is the viewer’s ability to differentiate the two, so a level of abstraction is deemed necessary. But who chooses these colors, and where does this line of abstraction in the name of easier comprehension begin or end? Artists such as Amy Sillman, Joe Scanlan, and Carolee Schneemann have subverted the conventional visual language of diagrams, revealing the diagram’s potential as a form of abstraction within itself. These artists’ utilization of diagrams forces us to reconsider the artistic potential of diagrams, but also reminds us of the arbitrary nature of such simplified charts generated by scientific communities. By analyzing works, such as Sillman’s Key in the exhibition, A Moveable Feast (Paris, 2014), Scanlan’s Wanderer in the Expanded Field (2009), as well as Schneemann’s ABC: We Print Anything in the Cards (1977), I will show how the  inherently contradictory and heterotopic qualities of diagrams are not only exposed by these artists, but used to invent novel, often humorous information visualizations of everything from art world power relations to the intimate details of erotic, vulnerable, affective exchanges.

It is difficult to dispute that documenta, the one hundred-day quinquennial exhibition in Kassel, Germany, is the most impactful contemporary art exhibition in the world. The editions both demonstrate the state of and set the tone for the arts and culture at large. In 2022, documenta fifteen, organized by the Indonesian collective ruangrupa, shook the notions of what a documenta exhibition is and showed what a relational, non-Western curatorial approach might look like. documenta fifteen has been widely debated in the art world both before, during, and after its run due to its subversive style of exhibition-making, centered around the concept of lumbung (referring to the method, process, and practice of the collective). As a recent edition of documenta, the scholarship and analysis of ruangrupa’s documenta fifteen is nascent. This project addresses the accusations of failure towards ruangrupa’s artistic direction of documenta fifteen and questions what failure means in the context of a massive contemporary art exhibition and who gets to define it. The argument considers the history of documenta and ruangrupa, lumbung as a curatorial (or anti-curatorial) “strategy,” data from past documenta editions, and analysis of ruangrupa’s writings and interviews. I argue that when ruangrupa moved into the role of the artistic directors of documenta, at the center of the global artistic paradigm, there was an inherent discord, an attempt by ruangrupa to forge a new type of relationship with documenta, but, in the end, an even greater crackdown of the institutional and political power structures. Despite pushing against colonialist, capitalist, and Western notions of exhibition-making, the nature of the structure and history of documenta meant that ruangrupa endured extreme mistreatment and often succumbed to the pressures of an art mega-exhibition.

Performance art is an art form involving the actions of the artist or participants, often in a public space. Elements such as music, costumes, lighting, physical objects, and spoken word develop the performance and aid the artist. Performance art and protest intersect when media such as flyers, posters, banners, costumes, and other objects are used as visual representations symbolizing a certain goal or call to action pertaining to the movement. In this presentation, I will reveal how performance pieces from the 20th- and 21st centuries draw influence from pioneering activists before them, as well as spread awareness of reproductive rights and their importance within the temporary public sphere. The temporality element of these pieces creates a sense of urgency for the issue at hand, the artists discussed use this to their advantage. Since the 1970s, activist artists have championed reproductive justice bringing education and attention to women’s socioeconomic being and overall health. Reproductive rights, more specifically access to legal and safe abortion, have become an intensely politicized issue in the last few decades and women who have obtained illegal abortions have become increasingly dehumanized. Activist artists within the modern Reproductive Justice Movement such as Viva Ruiz and Natacha Voliakovsky call attention to specific issues through their performances. For example, Viva Ruiz’s community performance Thank God For Abortion (2019) focuses on the Roman Catholic Church’s role regarding their views on abortion. Natacha Voiakovsky’s performances focus on bodily autonomy and gender identity, her most recent piece For a State Out of Our Bodies (2022) centers on government legislature and the role of the court. These performative protests give space for conversation, education, and reflection all within a public space.

This paper explores the convergence of Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian cultures in 9th-century England through the lens of stone sculpture, a vital tool used by Scandinavian settlers to project authority, display religious conversion, and assimilate into Anglo-Saxon communities. The Viking Age, marked by raids and settlements, set the stage for cultural exchange. The term “Viking” is explored, acknowledging its varied meanings and limitations in representing all Scandinavians of the time. The Danelaw, areas of Scandinavian presence, witnessed cultural blending, exemplified by the adoption of Danish law and Scandinavian place names. The paper focuses on stone sculpture in Northumbria, emphasizing its significance in understanding local dynamics.

The Gosforth Cross, a 10th-century masterpiece, combines Christian and Norse motifs, illustrating the cultural fusion. The juxtaposition of Norse mythology scenes with the Crucifixion suggests a unique perspective on Christianity. Other carvings in St. Mary’s Church complement the cross, emphasizing the acceptance of both belief systems. In Middleton, smaller crosses depict pagan warriors, showcasing a new elite class. Stone sculpture symbolizes political authority, with weapons indicating legal rights. These crosses suggest the persistence of ecclesiastical influence even under foreign rule. Scandinavian York reveals a workshop producing stone sculptures, showcasing a vibrant cultural exchange. The workshop’s existence implies elite support and unfinished pieces suggest a standard of craftsmanship. The economic and cultural adoption of coinage and metalwork further demonstrates the convergence. In conclusion, the stone sculptures in Gosforth, Middleton, and York highlight a compelling fusion of Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian cultures. The local elite’s use of stone sculpture reflects a shared identity, emphasizing authority, religious conversion, and assimilation. This convergence endures in the distinct Anglo-Scandinavian culture evidenced by these enduring artifacts.

The paper examines the revival of classical antiquity motifs and building elements that are present throughout the church of Santa Prassede in Rome, with an emphasis on the St. Zeno chapel. It also delves into the development of Roman Medieval art during that period, the reflection of the aftermath of the iconoclasm heresy in the Byzantine influence of the chapel, and the solidifying of the Catholic Church as an imperial and spiritual power.  The paper starts with a historical overview, discussing the rise of the Carolingians and their collaboration with the Catholic Church. Then, it proceeds with an iconographical analysis of the figures and symbols present in the chapel. Additionally, the author has analyzed the inscriptions’ decorative elements present throughout the chapel to identify its role in the development of Christian art, symbolism, and motifs that serve as didactic tools for the Church.  The paper concludes with a discussion of the need for further research on the vegetal design and abstract forms that are present in the chapel. This research could add another layer of meaning to the funerary chapel, which reflects the literary, political, liturgical, and artistic changes of the Carolingian Renaissance. 

The field of Slavic art and architecture has, to a considerable extent, remained underexplored within the Western scholarly sphere. The limited attention given to this artistic tradition in the Western world has resulted in a gap in the broader narrative of art historical and architectural studies. However, by expanding the scope of inquiry to include Slavic visual culture and monuments within the Western canon, a more comprehensive landscape of architectural studies emerges, as the following example demonstrates. The White Stone Churches are a group of architectural monuments in the Byzantine stylistic tradition prominent during the twelfth century, and associated with the Vladimir-Suzdal principality of Rus. These Churches are not just known for their white-stone facades, from which their name derives, but also for their size, corbel arches, high narrow windows, symmetry of motifs and facades, corbel kokoshniki roofing, and the huge plazas on which they stood.

As the predecessor to a larger genealogy of white stone churches in Rus, the Church of the Intercession on the Nerl is an outstanding example of medieval Russian architecture. The exterior is adorned with intricate carvings and decorative elements. The Church of the Intercession on the Nerl features a combination of elements from Byzantine architecture that was prevalent in the region during the 12th century. But under close examination, the visual traces present on the exterior expand beyond Byzantium and into the West. This paper seeks to address and expand the notion of amalgamation between the Byzantine and European tradition in Slavic architecture during the 12th century. In doing so, the study the Church of the Intercession on the Nerl’s unique construction, distinct materiality, and decorative program sheds light on the complex interrelationship between political power and viewership of this monumental architecture in the 12th century between Rus, Byzantium, and the West.

Gift giving in 14^th century France was the highest sign of love among the upper classes. Among these popular gifts were Ivory mirror cases, often depicting the allegorical Siege of the Castle of Love. The scene represented knights attacking a castle full of women, assaulting some and being given flowers by others. This image has been read by scholars as representing ideals of courtly love, where the woman was an unattainable object that resisted being seduced until the man had shown courageous persistence in his pursuit. My paper contends that while this reading can be maintained, a case from c.1320-40 opens trans and queer readings through its visual composition, particularly through two pairs of women. In one pair a woman touches another’s breast while embracing her from behind, while another pair ride out of the castle gates with flowering, phallic lances to do battle with the marauding knights.

This ambiguous iconography, compared to other portrayals of this common scene offers the viewer a spatial reorientation within medieval visual culture. For example, the scene could enable a transgender woman to see these women as transfeminine lesbians who have attained acceptance in a female community. This reading is reinforced by the mirror, where one could reflect on their identity in a fragmentary imagined space. I also argue that the mirror case itself functions as a trans object, which adapts to multiple meanings depending on the viewer and time period. At some point after its creation, the mirror was taken out and the inside of the case was threaded, suggesting is was used as a lid for a small chest. In this way the mirror case transitions from a pool of reflection to a container, and ultimately to an empty mirror case on display in the Met Cloisters.

Martin le Franc’s Le Champion des Dames is the most extensive defense from the Querelle des femmes, a literary debate against the defamation and mistreatment of women. Sparked by proto-feminist writer Christine de Pizan in the early 15^th century, this discourse would continue to expand and develop past the late medieval period and throughout the Renaissance. Le Champion des Dames’ literary and musical importance has been discussed to a certain extent, but this particular manuscript’s innovative iconography, seen through its sixty-seven unique miniatures, has hardly been written on by art historical scholars. Martin le Franc’s poetry and the illuminators’ images establish biblical, historical, contemporary medieval, and allegorical women as subjects. One of the women featured is Joan of Arc, among the earliest depictions of her. Joan was a figure who overcame barriers of class and gender to become a crucial figure in the victory of Valois France during the Hundred Years’ War. While Joan of Arc is visualized in just one miniature, allusions are made to her throughout the manuscript through word and image. Le Champion des Dames not only alludes to but authenticates Joan of Arc’s self-image as a divinely called warrior, mystic, and nationalistic French hero. This is primarily accomplished through the use of iconography associated with power and authority – traditionally reserved for men of nobility or religious orders – as well as comparisons to other women who similarly demonstrated prowess on the battlefield and exemplified Christian virtues. By revealing contemporary notions of Joan’s identity we are able to better understand other representations of the heroine throughout history. It may also signify increased support for Joan resulting in the posthumous nullification of her condemnation.

In this paper, I explore historical Christian mysticism, a devalued and almost invisible devotion, and its connection to science, gender, and queer theory – specifically regarding medieval worship of Jesus Christ’s side wound, the final stab that is said to have killed him. Through analysis of an illuminated manuscript belonging to Bonne of Luxembourg in 15th century France, the hegemonic Catholic Church is challenged, and we are forced to look at not just what the Church is purporting, but what they seek to erase. In this, we see many facets of covert worship, and perhaps even a theological layer of history that has been completely eradicated. This paper means to provide not just historical context upon which the Catholic Church sees its rise, but also a tender, humanist portrait of the owner of one of the most famous historical Psalters ever made, the teenage Bonne. This communion with her as well as her personal devotional artifact attempts to make visible the identities, ideas, and desires of a collectively silenced history.

The Katharinenthal Visitation group, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, was one of the many objects in the convent of St. Katharinenthal used for personal devotion. It depicts the Visitation as a harmonious moment of exchange between the Virgin Mary and her cousin Elizabeth. Their pregnancies are represented not by swelling bellies, but by two rock crystal cabochons carved into niches just below their chests. The usage of rock crystal for the wombs of Mary and Elizabeth allowed for an engaging viewing experience, and recalled metaphors used in the convent’s Sister Book to illustrate model behavior, especially obedience. Well-behaved sisters were recorded to have achieved states of grace during which they glowed and became transparent. The rock crystal also alludes to the idea of “spiritual pregnancy” as a form of devotion that was especially popular in female monastic settings. Notably, Mary and Elizabeth are depicted almost identically, despite the fact that Elizabeth was an old woman when she became pregnant. That both women are equally beautiful in the sculpture shows that all nuns, regardless of age or life experiences, could emulate their behavior. Through the beautiful and crystalline nature of its appearance, the Katharinenthal Visitation group served as a model of faith for female monastics that utilized metaphors of translucency, the creation of an active viewing experience, and the nuns’ prior knowledge about the Visitation, and was accessible to a range of different women in the convent as a guide for ideal behavior.

As a child conceived of an illicit affair between Fra Filippo Lippi, a Carmelite friar and one of the Medici’s most beloved painters, and Lucrezia Buti, a young nun from Prato, Filippino Lippi (1457 – 1504) was perhaps infamous from the moment he was born. Although his parents were pardoned for the religious illegality of their romance, the scandal surrounding Filippino’s origins was the subject of gossip in Florence well into the sixteenth century. Nonetheless, Giorgio Vasari claimed that Fillippino Lippi was “a painter of most beautiful intelligence and most lovely invention” and was popular among Florence’s most wealthy and powerful patrons. While the visual qualities of Filippino Lippi’s paintings reveal the clear influence of his teachers, including his father and Sandro Botticelli, the variances in the artistic perspectives and style throughout his oeuvre demonstrates his cultivated versatility to accommodate patrons’ needs. To establish a career and remain in demand, Filippino Lippi interpreted his patrons’ desires with clever innovation to distinguish himself amongst his competition. This essay will examine Filippino Lippi’s painting, Virgin and Child with Saints John the Baptist, Martin of Tours and Catherine of Alexandria, otherwise known as The Nerli Altarpiece (circa 1494) and previous scholarship investigating the commission of this piece by Florentine diplomat, Tanai Nerli. This altarpiece remains in situ, inside the Church of Santo Spirito in Florence, this paper will analyze the political and religious contexts of Florence during the last decade of the quattrocento to illustrate the artist’s ingenious approach to customizing his commissions for patrons and demonstrate his artistic strategy for distinguishing himself from his (in)famous father. 

Themes of homosexuality often underscore artwork of the Renaissance and Baroque regardless of its illegality within society. This paper explores the dichotomy of representation between male and female homosexuality in Renaissance and Baroque art and the societal connotations that follow. While illegal at this time, male homosexuality was still commonly practiced and accepted in the form of pederasty. There is an overwhelming body of artwork from this time period depicting such forms of male homoeroticism in a heroic and idealized light. Contrarily, depictions of female homosexuality in the Renaissance and Baroque periods often follow the rhetoric of witches, sexual depravity, and total barbarism. Other works depicting female homosexuality also undercut and delegitimize their female homoeroticism through the inclusion of male presence and are intended to depict a form of foreplay for heterosexual relations. Societal and personal implications can be found within the depictions of homosexuality in Renaissance and Baroque art. Artworks surrounding this subject can aid in understanding the cultural significance of both male and female homosexuality within Renaissance and Baroque society. These artworks also give us insight into the personal lives of artists from this time period.

Though he is typically best known for his series of Madonnas and the Vatican Stanze, Renaissance master Raphael’s most enigmatic painting is, without a doubt, La Fornarina. Shrouded in mystery and filled with symbolic attributes, the painting has been the subject of debate for centuries. Many theories surround the identity of the sitter, the gestures of her hands, the accessories adorning her hair, the foliage framing the model, and the modified brushstrokes which cover important clues to her identity. Completed the same year of his death, the painting has raised far more questions since its creation in 1520 than it has answered. Dominant theories in the field posit the identity of La Fornarina in multiple ways: as a portrait of Raphael’s Roman mistress, Margherita Luti; as the wife of one of Raphael’s greatest patrons; as a belle donne, or idealized female beauty; or as a courtesan. After undergoing radiographic analysis, the unmodified work lends itself to the theory that La Fornarina reveals a possible clandestine marriage between Margherita Luti and Raphael, as indicated by original symbolic details in the painting that were probably covered by Raphael’s assistant and pupil, Giulio Romano, after the artist’s death. I posit that differences between La Fornarina and La Donna Velata, another of Raphael’s paintings associated with Luti, are due to the deliberate choice of the artist to create both an idealized and truthful depiction of his mistress, respectively.

Portrait covers, referred to as timpani in sixteenth century Venice, provided protection and allegorical accompaniments to the pictures they concealed. My research connects Titian’s earliest timpano, Cupid with the Wheel of Time (1515-1520) with the layered function of and iconography found on Renaissance portrait medals. I argue that the earliest of Titian’s timpani, Cupid with the Wheel of Time (also known as Cupid with the Wheel of Fortune), provokes the comparison to Renaissance portrait medals due to its presentation of allegory, its iconography, and its potential models of emulation. As both of these objects provided a layer of allegorical imagery to portraits, they share the conceptual function of illustrating the sitter’s values and philosophies. Titian’s depiction of Cupid struggling against a symbolic wheel of fortune aligns the sitter with the Neoplatonic concept of a transcendent love. Cupid with the Wheel of Time provokes the implication that Titian was emulating Renaissance portrait medals and serves as an exemplar for the comparison between the two modes of layered representation. Arguably, Titian’s use of ancient and contemporary works in other mediums as emulative models supports the hypothesis that Titian was borrowing iconographically and stylistically from dual-sided medallic objects. Titian’s reformulations of art objects in other mediums, such as sarcophagi, cameos, coins, medals, and statuary, attest to his ingenium as a Renaissance artist as well as provide the foundation for which this argument can gain traction. In exploring the relationship between Cupid with the Wheel of Time and Renaissance portrait medals, the significance of allegorical accompaniments to portraiture is illuminated in the context in which they were commissioned and created.

The Renaissance in Venice was a time of cultural, artistic, and economic growth that greatly changed the patterns of the city-state’s social life. Venice became one of the wealthiest and most powerful cultural centers in Europe, leading to the emergence of a highly hierarchical society. One of the most striking features of Renaissance Venice was its reputation for extravagant displays of wealth through fashion trends. Sumptuary laws, restrictions that emerged to control extravagance, resulted in highly stratified fashion displays among Venetian citizens. These fashion trends can be examined through the mutual, intertwined relationship between art and fashion, which resulted in artworks that reflect the period clothing, underlying social hierarchies, and the profound influence of sumptuary laws on fashion in Renaissance Venice. This paper showcases artworks and artifacts demonstrating how sumptuary laws, aimed at restricting excessive spending on luxury goods, were used as weapons of social immobility, limiting lower classes from emulating grandeur while exempting the wealthy who could afford to pay fines. Stratified styles emerged in the patriarchal city-state, as wealthy and powerful Venetian men used fashion to limit the power of others while displaying their own wealth by donning sumptuous, elaborate garments. Equally patriarchal laws dictated women’s fashion trends based on social and marital status, with one notable exception to these laws, the courtesans. This research paper examines the stratified hierarchical nature of fashion in Renaissance Venice and the emergence of fashion as a tool for social position.

What lies beneath the surface of the tale of the Last Supper, a solemn depiction of a gathering of friends, or paranoia ringing through the room at the news of betrayal, a moment decorated in dark-value figures and angels rushing from the heavens to meet the living? At the second coming of Christ, is our first instinct rejoicing, or fear, of the unworldly process of resurrection? In his book The Birth of Tragedy, Friedrich Nietzsche coins the term “Dionysian,” a quality that describes art that unveils the untamed and unseen, and expressed without the guise of superficiality. While Mannerism has been discussed as being a logical stepping-stone or a reaction to Renaissance art, its expression of the subconscious and innate desire to create art without strict adherence to style or trend is reminiscent of no preceding style—it discloses our innermost psyche. The Dionysian qualities inherent in Mannerism seek to evoke an emotional experience for viewers through representation of the unexpressed, depicted in a variety of motifs, from abandonment of classical ideals to illogical forms, thereby revealing collective fears and desires concealed beneath the surface of art. Over time, Mannerism has manifested in various forms, from Michelangelo’s vestibule in the Laurentian Library to Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, but it is in Mannerist depiction of classical and biblical myth where we are able to truly witness the Dionysian traits. Through a comparative exploration of biblical and mythological art, we will unravel the veiled subconscious woven throughout Mannerist art across epochs and style. We will untangle the vast possibilities of how Mannerism influences these stories with keen attention to the works of Tintoretto, El Greco, and Michelangelo, and how they aid in a nuanced understanding of Nietzsche’s philosophical foundation.

Our understanding of ancient Roman and Greek art is based on centuries of misconception. The popularized belief that classical sculptures were intended to be viewed in antiquity as in their current colorless, modern state has been disproven. Recent discoveries have blended science and art, with advanced imaging technology allowing scholars to render polychromatic color proposals of ancient statues based on Visible Induced Luminescence (VIL) and Ultraviolet Florescence (UVF) hues of paint pigment particles. This technology has provided scholars with a range of colors used by ancient Greek and Roman artists. Considering these discoveries, I created a polychromatic color proposal of a new plaster cast of the Head of Augustus under the mentorship of Dr. Katherine Schwab, Curator of the Historic Plaster Cast Collection, and Professor of Art History & Visual Culture at Fairfield University. Over the course of seven sessions, I brought the head of Augustus plaster cast to life using acrylic paints to hypothesize the original appearance intended by the artist in antiquity. When creating a polychromatic color proposal, both digital sketches and research on advanced imaging technology support the choice of pigments. These digital sketches served as the basis for my paint placement and artistic decisions which helped the plaster cast of Augustus come to life. As shown in the images below, the once colorless plaster cast has been transformed into a remarkable glimpse into antiquity.