St Martin in the Fields, William Logsdail

Link is to zoomable version on Google Art Project; downloadable file on Wikimedia Commons, original is in the Tate Britain.

I love the atmosphere in this painting of London’s Trafalgar Square by Victorian painter William Logsdail — the wetness of the stone, the textures of fabrics, and the contrast between the muted grays and touches of higher chroma color.

Carnival Evening, Henri-Julien-Félix Rousseau

Zoomable image on Google Art Project; high-res file on Wikimedia Commons; original is in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

When I was younger, I had a poster of this painting on my apartment wall, and I still enjoy its presence here in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Rousseau is often considered a “naive” artist — lacking the benefit of formal training — but sometimes that character, plus Rousseau’s unique personal vision, are what make his work powerful.

This picture, for example, makes no sense. Given the position of the full moon, none of the lighting would be as it is portrayed: not the bright clouds — particularly those near the ground with their orange glow — not the little dark cloud attended by two preternaturally bright ones, not the dark ground or the oddly lit couple in their carnival costumes, who seem lit as though from a daytime scene.

Also odd is the strange face peering out from what might be an oval window, or perhaps a mirror, on the side of the gazebo, or the strangely placed lamp above the corner of the roof.

Somehow, all of the nonsensical elements work together in Rousseau’s strangely innocent kind of magic realism, to make a painting that likewise has a magical charm.

The Two Crowns, Frank Dicksee

Link is to zoomable version on Google Art Project; downloadable high-res version on Wikimedia Commons; original is in the Tate Britain.

In a turn of the 20th century painting of a Medieval scene, the crown of a king is seen in a different light when he is struck with the sight (or vision) of a representation of Christ’s crown of thorns.

Dicksee has lavished attention on the rich pageantry of the royal procession — the intricate gleaming armor, the beauty of the women and their luxurious garments and the tossed flowers. All are, in the moralistic nature of the work, meant to contrast the temporal nature of earthly life and the vanity of wealth and power with the presence of the spiritual; but to me (and I think to the artist) they serve much better as an actual indulgence in the beauty of the physical world.

For more, see my post on Sir Frank Dicksee.