Pompeii No.25: Adding Coral For Good Health

This week I'm adding coral branches to the mural!

Coral, once believed to be a sea plant, is actually the cumulative skeletal remains of living animals called polyps. For thousands of years, many cultures have viewed coral as a decorative gem as well as protection against disease.

In Ancient Rome, coral was believed to protect against childhood disease and to avert evil, and it's still seen as good luck in Mediterranean countries and places like India, Tibet and Japan.

Piero della Francesca  |  Rizzoli

Piero della Francesca portrayed the Christ Child with this necklace of coral, and hanging from it, a coral branch. The painting dates to circa 1475.

Mantegna: I Maestro del Colore  |  Fratelli Fabbri

Mantegna (one of my favorite artists) hung a huge branch of coral above the Madonna and Child in this painting, which dates about 20 years later than della Francesca's. Below is a detail.

Mantegna: I Maestro del Colore  |  Fratelli Fabbri

I'll be using della Francesca's and Mantegna's coral as models, but . . .

PubHist.com

. . .  I wanted to include later images of coral to illustrate how the gem was revered through the ages. The painting above, by Jan Claesz, dates to circa 1609, and shows a girl who has both a coral necklace and a rattle that incorporates pink or white coral at its tip.

Christie's auction

Such rattles often doubled as whistles. Above are English rattles dating to the early 20th century, a full 400 years after the rattle in Jan Claesz's painting. My blogging friend Rosemary, of Where Five Valleys Meet, says of these rattles, "The coral section of the English Victorian rattles was there to sooth the baby's gums when teething. Coral did not chip or splinter, and is cool to the touch. The coral also provided some comfort and reassurance to parents because of its mystical protection, as you have mentioned."

Incidentally, these four rattles recently sold at auction for approximately $2200, total, which I imagine would make a collector of such items very happy.

I'll be hanging the coral branches

over the mural's three smaller garlands.

click to enlarge

Above are the finished corals. As you can see, I scoured the seas for three branches that were similar in shape as well as size.

The Duke's Artist

My blogging friend Jim of Road to Parnassus, familiar with my blog portrait, recently sent me this great magazine cover featuring Piero della Francesca's profile of the Duke of Urbino. I wrote earlier about Duke Federico II da Montefeltro, and the fun I had using his image to make my own portrait. You can read about that here.

When I received the cover art, I thought it was a good time to revisit this image and talk a little more about the artist, Piero della Francesca (c. 1415-1492).

Piero, the son of a cobbler and tanner, was apprenticed in Florence as early as 1432. He would have known the work of masters of the early Renaissance in an exciting atmosphere of discovery, inspiration, sharing, teaching and copying. One who inspired Piero greatly was the short-lived Masaccio, possibly the greatest painter of the early Renaissance, and one of the first masters of perspective. Below are frescoes by Masaccio, who died at age 26.

Frescoes in the Church of Santa Maria del Carmine, Florence, by Masaccio | guardian.co.uk

Here would be a good place to mention that Piero della Francesca, while remembered chiefly as an artist, was also a mathematician who wrote treatises on arithmetic, geometry, algebra and perspective. It's amazing to realize that in the whole span of art history, it was only in the 1400s that the principles of perspective were understood and first used in painting. Piero della Francesca did much of the groundwork. As we look at his paintings, we can see that he approached them as mathematical studies.

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Possibly Piero's most important painting is The Flagellation of Christ (1455-60), above. Much has been written about this work, since it not only relates a Biblical event, but also possibly alludes to church politics of della Francesco's time. There is much speculation as to the identity of the three foreground figures. Notice that each is neatly framed within a rectangle.

The Madonna and Child of the Brera Altarpiece (1472-74) is another painting that shows Piero's mastery of perspective. I am drawn to the egg hanging within the shell, so reminiscent of the work of Salvador Dali. Don't you suppose Dali spent some time studying this image? The egg is said to represent the incarnation of the Christ.

In the lower right corner, Piero depicts Federico II, Duke of Urbino and Piero's chief patron. The duke was a man of great learning and cultivation, and I have no doubt that the two engaged in long intellectual conversations.

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Piero della Francesca might be best remembered for his c. 1474 double portrait of the duke and his duchess, Battista Sforza. Seen together, the portraits provide a vast panoramic landscape.

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The reverse of the frame is an identical structure that showcases these two panels, the "Triumphs" of Federico and Battista. Such an unusual framing job is explained by the fact that originally these painting were not framed at all, but hinged like a book.

click to enlarge

This unframed view is perhaps how the portraits would have been presented to Federico and Battista. Notice how the landscape is now smoothly unified?

Piero della Francesca died in his late 70s on October 12, 1492, the very day that Columbus first set foot in the Americas.

With the exception of the first two, all images in this posting are from

Piero della Francesca, one of the Rizzoli Art Classics series.

I have manipulated the images of the Duke and Duchess in the last picture

to reveal how the portraits would possibly have originally appeared.

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Fun With My Profile Portrait

A reader (and fellow blogger) has suggested that I show more of my profile picture, and talk a little about it. So here’s the story:

I chose to use a portrait of Federico da Montefeltro, who was the Duke of Urbino from 1474 until his death in 1482. He rose in power by heading a mercenary army, and he is famous for having had tremendously loyal men, and for never having lost a war. The portrait was painted around 1465 by Piero della Francesca, a lover of mathematics who is credited today for having been a pioneer in the understanding of perspective.

There’s an interesting story behind da Montefeltro’s remarkable appearance. He lost his right eye in a jousting match, and because he feared assassination attempts, he had the bridge of his nose removed to afford better visibility with his remaining eye.

Called “The Light of Italy,” da Montefeltro was highly cultivated and amassed a library that was second only to the Vatican’s.

This portrait of da Montefeltro with his son captures his dual passion for things military and literary. He's wearing the Order of the Garter, which was awarded to him by England's King Edward IV.

Working in the program Adobe PhotoShop, I began my profile picture by removing da Montefeltro's face and filling in the background. Naturally, I didn't need to refill the background completely (because a new face would go over it), but it's not my nature to leave holes in work, even when they're unseen! Next, I separated the body and hat into their own layers so that I'd be able to manipulate them without disturbing the background. Finally, I inserted my own face on a fourth layer - it's a shot from a digital camera. I lopped off the top of my head in a random sort of way (words I hope never to repeat) so that it would fit all the more easily under the hat. I then airbrushed almost completely over my photo so that it would match the style of della Francesca's painting.

Here's a detail, showing how the face is actually very stylized.

A comparison of the original and final images. In my version, the sky is a little darker and the hat has been stretched to fit my own head. I've also made the texture of the hat and the sleeve a lot smoother. There is some blotchiness in della Francesca's original, which might be due to age. Working on this image was my own way of time traveling, and it was great fun.