Pompeii No.58: Pompeii's Finale

No, I don't mean smoke and ashes. When I say, "Pompeii's Finale," I simply mean that my home mural project has finally come to an end.

Since my last posting. the mural's window plaque has received a gold surface and a Latin inscription. The font is appropriately named Trajan, and the saying translates as, "Know Thyself," wise and profound advice from the ages.

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Here are views of the room as it appears today... 

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I promised my blogging friend Yvette that I would include a view from the kitchen. It's painted an orange, but I think you could also call it a Pompeian yellow.

Of course there is still work to be done — the Roman grille for the window, a solution to shield the kitchen from view while still allowing easy access, perhaps revised lighting, and then finally, the furnishings. That should be a lot of fun. In the meantime, I'll put away the ladder, the drop cloth and many quarts of paint.

Thanks for viewing!

Pompeii No.57: Window Treatments

If you've been following the many installments of the Pompeii Room's evolution, you might remember that I painted the window frame at the very beginning.

I chose to begin there because it was the first thing that people entering the room would see. But I painted it loosely because I wanted to give a little momentum to the project. At the time, I said I'd return at a later date and add more detail. Well, that time is now.

I began by repainting the entire frame to better match the rest of the room's masonry. Now all the masonry is in the same color family, primarily a Sherwin Williams paint called Sand Dollar.

Here you can see the before and after. The original window frame was a light mustard yellow that I equated with sandstone, and as you can see, I've better delineated the torus that tops the window frame.

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My friend Sandy — who gives excellent critiques — thinks that the cobalt blue plaque makes the frame a little too top heavy, even if it will be getting an inscription. She's made a suggestion that I like, and so that blue will be replaced by my next posting.

You've undoubtedly noticed that in all my images of the Pompeii Room's window, I've masked the actual window with gray. That's because I've been bothered all along by a venetian blind, which quickly destroys the illusion I've been working hard to create.

Greek Revival America  |  Roger G. Kennedy  |  detail of a photograph by Robert Lautman

What I really wanted was a Roman grill like the image above. I drew plans of such a window and even consulted with a fine carpenter who's done other work on the house.

homedepot.com

I also looked into the possibility of using industrial grilles.

And then last week, while my house was being tented, I discovered this antique screen, originally hinged as a room divider. If you look closely, you might be able to see that by removing an X'd unit from the bottom of each panel, the fit will be almost perfect. I'm thrilled.

I hope you'll join me for the next installment!

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Pompeii No.55: An Homage to Piranesi

en.wikipedia.org

commons.wikimedia.org

I decided that my Pompeian mural would not be complete without an homage to one of the most remarkable men of the eighteenth century, Giovanni Battista Piranesi. Piranesi (1720-1778) was born in the then Republic of Venice, and studied with his uncle, who was an engineer specializing in excavation. Perhaps that whetted Giovanni's appetite for the etchings that would make him famous.

Piranesi: The Complete Etchings  |  Luigi Ficacci

At the age of 20, Piranesi went to Rome, studied etching and engraving, and soon produced a series of Roman views that brought him his initial fame. Above is his depiction of the ruins of the forum of Nerva.

Piranesi: The Complete Etchings  |  Luigi Ficacci

Piranesi measured the ruins of Rome, then made beautiful topographic maps, as well as reconstructions of imperial Rome at its height. Above is Piranesi's reconstruction of the Campus Martius, originally a military field dedicated to the god Mars. Below is a another reconstruction of the Campus Martius, perhaps inspired by Piranesi's work.

en.wikipedia.org

Piranesi: The Complete Etchings  |  Luigi Ficacci

If that were that not enough, Piranesi recorded countless Roman fragments in multiple compositions like the one above.

The three previous engravings came from this book published by Taschen, and no library of architectural history (or for that matter decorative design) would be complete without it.

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I should add before I go on that Piranesi is also famous for having drawn a series of imagined prisons. They'd fit in nicely with contemporary fantasy art and today's blockbuster movie sets. Piranesi was a most prolific fellow.

jamblimited.com

When I saw this lovely urn, designed by Piranesi, I thought it would be perfect to place between the living room's ignudi.

As you can see, my own version has a different bottom than the original reference, but one that is also based on a Piranesi design.

Such a substantial urn deserves a plinth, perhaps even one with a commemorative portrait. But who is this? Certainly not Giovanni Battista Piranesi!

It is yours truly. The self-portrait measures approximately three inches high, or about the same size you're seeing it now, if you have a 21.5-inch screen.

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Now the ignudi can contemplate the urn, rather than ogle each other, as they seemed to be doing before. This is a dark corner that abuts a floor-to-ceiling mirror, so it's a little difficult to light properly.

This angled view is actually a truer representation.

And with that, the living room part of the mural is finished. Now I'm going to double back and tweak a couple areas to which I mentioned I would return.

I hope you'll join me for the next stage.

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Pompeii No.53: It's Only Paint!

After framing the Diana painting with Clovio's design from the Farnese Hours, it came time to hang the painting. For a long time, I had in mind to hang it from a blue ribbon, tied with a bow.

Perhaps I was subconsciously thinking of the later French decorative groupings of implements that are properly referred to as "symbols." I also thought the blue bow would be a nice balance to the ignudi's draping in the lower part of the mural.

I was initially very pleased with the final result. But upon looking at it the next morning, I liked it much less. It wasn't just that the bow was a little too sweet, or that I was getting further and further away from Neoclassism. I realized that the blue was more intense than any color in the Diana painting, especially as it was surrounded by that dark auburn. Because of that, it was pulling the eye away from the painting. Can you see that the bow is actually quite a distraction?

So this is when you say to yourself, "It's only paint! Let's go to Plan B."

My second hanger is a simple unbowed ribbon, austere by comparison.

Now, once again, the painting predominates.
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Pompeii No.52: Framing Diana

After I finished Diana's portrait, I knew that it should be complemented with an appropriate antique frame, and I did quite a bit of research on that subject. In my meanderings, I came upon the work of Giulio Clovio, an artist and advisor to Cardinal Farnese for some 40 years.

The Renaissance  |  Charles McCorquodale

Clovio spent nine years producing the Farnese Hours, a book containing what is considered by many to be the Italian Renaissance's finest miniatures.

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It was Clovio's magnum opus.

Another section of the Farnese Hours  |  croatia.org

The Renaissance  |  Charles McCorquodale

Giulio Clovis became a close friend of El Greco, who painted this portrait of Clovio with his famous book.

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I was tickled that a painting from the Palazzo Farnese should be married to a frame that is also a part of the Farnese history, a nice bit of serendipity. As you can see, I modified my frame to look a tad more Neoclassic and a little less Baroque.

At the bottom of the frame, I've added a plaque with Annibale Carracci's initials. Wherever he is, I hope he's happy.

In my next posting, we'll figure out a way to hang the painting.

I hope you'll join me then.

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Pompeii No.51: Diana's Secret Love

Mark D. Ruffner © 2015

www.gopixpic.com

As I mentioned in Pompeii No. 47, Cardinal Farnese's gallery ceiling depicts the loves of the gods of Olympus. Above, I've circled the ceiling segment that I've chosen to add to my own mural. It's one of Annibale Carracci's best works, and a testament thereof is that most books on Carracci and the Farnese Gallery highlight this portion of the ceiling.

Annibale Carracci: The Farnese Gallery, Rome  |  Dempsey, Braziller

Here I've circled details that overlap from other parts of the mural, and these are areas I'll therefore be omitting from my own copy.

The painting depicts Diana (also known as Artemis in Greek mythology) who was the Roman goddess of the moon and of the hunt. Much to the disappointment of the other gods, she vowed never to marry. But on one of her trips across the sky, she spotted a sleeping shepherd named Endymion and fell in love. As you can see, she is was so very careful in her attention — much to the amusement of the cherubs — that not even Endymion's dog stirred. Diana visited Endymion thereafter many times, always when he was asleep, and remembering her vow, she asked Jupiter (or Zeus) to make Endymion eternally young and eternally asleep. There are a number of alternate versions of this story.

I leave it to you to determine possible messages on love and life, which might include the moral to never say never. In any case I like Carracci's depiction and have copied it, below.

Mark D. Ruffner © 2015

Below is a comparison of Carracci's original and my own copy.

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Probably the biggest difference between the two is that I changed the clouds, making them level and almost an Art Deco stylization. It helps me to see the comparison the same way you are now doing because I notice that I need to go back and add more shadow to Diana's arm, and that the dog needs a little more contrasting white in his face and tail.

Gli Amori Degli Dei

Of course Annibale was working on a much greater scale, maybe 20 times the size of my little copy.

I want to call you attention now to the interesting way he shadowed his figures. Where other artists would sometimes crosshatch, Carracci shadowed with a method that looked like fine banknote engraving. His first apprenticeship was with a goldsmith, so perhaps he developed this technique then. One would not see this looking up from floor level, and I find it quite astonishing. I would have loved to have looked over Carracci's shoulder as he worked.

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Here's the Carracci wall as it looks today. If the Diana painting looks a little unreal in this photograph, it's because I isolated it in PhotoShop and lightened its exposure so that you wouldn't be seeing any of it in shadow.

But we can't just leave it there, floating in an auburn void! In my next posting, I'll be putting a frame around the painting, and the frame will come from a most appropriate source. I hope you'll join me then!
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