Art and the Desert Island
I am often asked about my favorite artwork. I hate that question, because I always have to qualify my answer and want to change my response as soon as I have given it. So I’ve been thinking about that question about being stranded on a desert island and the things I would want to have with me. If I could have only one artwork, which would it be? I’ve decided that I would want Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son. Here, a broken spirit and contrite heart are met with the most tender mercies of a loving father. It is an exquisite painting about repentance and forgiveness and redemption, and it never fails to move me.
Conversation topic: If you were stranded on a desert island, which artwork would you want with you and why?
17 comments
If on a desert island I would choose Rogier van der Weyden’s The Deposition to keep me company. From the first time I saw this painting in a high school art history class, it has never failed to move me. Its vibrant colors, incredible detail and texture are aesthetically breathtaking, but the reality of sorrow and love uniquely expressed by each figure surrounding the lifeless body of Christ move me to tears. I feel I am transported to that moment after Christ was crucified. Seeing this painting in The Prado while on study abroad with Mark Johnson is one life experience I will not soon forget. I could have stared at this painting for hours.
(I hope it is okay that an art history alumni participate in these discussions. I’m so glad to see you have started this website.)
The desert island criterion changes the game for me. One of my favorite works of all time is a sketch of van Gogh’s Avenue of Poplars as seen here. I fear, however, that this work would just feel somber and morose being trapped on the island. The same goes for Birth of the World by Joan Miró. Deserted, The Supper at Emmaus by Rembrandt would give me hope. In the biblical story, after walking and talking with their unrecognizable savior, two despairing disciples invite Jesus to “Abide with us.” As the men break bread they recognize Christ before as vanishes. They then ask, “Did not our heart burn within us…?” Such intimations with holiness and divinity are what ultimate hope and comfort are made of. Rembrandt’s representation of this moment is especially moving with its intense chiaroscuro, the fervor of the disciple’s eyes, and the Savior’s divine background light.
I would want Caspar David Friedrich’s Monk by the Sea, partially because it’s generally my favorite painting, but also because I think it would be quite applicable in an isolated environment like that. I suppose one could read sadness in the storminess of this piece, and if that’s where contemplation takes you, then I guess it does. In my opinion, it’s healthy to get wrecked on the coast every once in a while, and it’s especially good to spend a moment thinking about how small you are. This painting may be one of the only things I wouldn’t consider eating when I’m in the throes of desperation, if not because it would taste terrible, because it reminds me that sometimes feeling separate or even desperate doesn’t necessarily mean being alone.
I would pick the Hermes Diskophoros head from the Pergamon. It is the most captivating piece of work I have ever seen. I could stare into those eyes for years and always find something new in them. It would be nice to have a friend on that little island, too.
see Hermes here: http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Mythology/Pergamon/HermesDiskophorosPergamon.html
I would have to take a cast of Claudel’s sculpture The Waltz with me. It’s just my favorite work of art of all time.
I’ve already changed my mind a few times about which work I would want on a deserted isle. Should I go with something like Ghent Altarpiece? There are so many different things to look at and so many questions to consider- that could keep me busy forever. Plus, it’s so enormous it could be my shelter! Should I go with something like Bernini’s Francesco d’Este? It would be like having someone along for the ride- a very grand someone that is. But I really think that I’d have to go with a Rothko, maybe Four Darks in Red (this is a happy Rothko- not a scary Rothko). I think that out of all the works of art I’ve seen, Rothko’s works can fill me with an overwhelmingly contemplative peace and would keep me sane. However, I reseve the right to change my mind . . . as many times as I want to!
I immediately thought of Rene Magritte. He is a strange thinker, but I think I would want something like his “Golconda” or “The beautiful relations” to keep me company on a deserted island to keep my mind occupied with “what if?”. It would be nice to think about magical possibilities and alternatives when all alone and stranded.
Last year I saw a Sam Taylor-Wood at White Cube titled Sigh. An eight screen, eight-ish minute long video where we are shown an orchestra playing a piece of music. Each screen shows a different section of the orchestra performing. In regular street clothes. And without instruments. We see the orchestra playing as one would expect: responding to the conductor; taking cues at the right moment; breathing and blowing correctly; holding the weight of the instruments when they are being played and when silent; expressing the music on their faces and in their eyes; playing the music through their body language; fiddling with and cleaning their instruments and so on.
As a personal response, it not only moved me in a way that I find hard to describe, but I felt it to be a bit of a metaphor for life (and, it seems, desert island life) because of the issues surrounding the idea of using something unseen and acting like its real. Acting like something is true. Acting in a way that shows you are completely convinced, that you, in no uncertain terms, believe that you are playing a. real. tuba. Making something unseen visible to you and the people around you. It’s beyond ordinary.
http://www.whitecube.com/exhibitions/taylor-wood-my/my-lgg-iii/
Anything by Goya. Specifically The Pilgrimage of St. Isidros. I love how this work shows the progression of Goya’s work. I might have a slight man-crush of Goya…
BTW, I’m a new transfer student in the Art History program, I’m assuming it’s fine to post on this?
Not a painting (unless it was a reproduction, because I wouldn’t want it to get lost and/or ruined therefor depriving the rest of humanity). Just being a pragmatist. Maybe an photograph like a Winogrand or a Robert Frank or Alice Brill, an urban one with lots of people to keep me company, that way I could still people watch. Plus I feel like it would be less cumbersome, and the reproduction would practically be closer the original.
It’s funny to see how different everyone’s preferences are. No offense but some of these works would drive me insane before anything else (and I’m sure lots of you feel the same way about my choice
)!
I would want Bernini’s “David” with me. I don’t know if it’s my absolute favorite work of art (I hate that question too), but it’s the only work of art that has ever moved me to tears. And hey, if I was on a desert island, I’d definitely want my one work of art to guarantee a strong aesthetic response!
I would need anything by Richard Serra, especially his post-1990’s large scale pieces. You would never get bored on the deserted island having Serra’s amazing architectural sculptures to walk through and enjoy.
I had such a hard time thinking of my answer to this until I read Monica’s comment above. I too hate to be asked my favorite work of art, but if I had to pick one, why not pick one that has moved me to tears numerious times?
So, based on that criterion, I would want Michelangelo’s Pieta with me. I cann’t thing of antoher work that has moved me so emotionally, both in person while visiting St. Peter’s, and also beautiful prints of it.
I would have to say this Sistine Chapel ceiling–I have never been so moved by an artwork as I was while standing in it amid all the other tourists looking up. Another good choice would be one of Van Eyck’s works, like the Madonna in a church. If you got bored on the island, you could sit and stare at it and all the symbolism. Then when you got off you could write a paper revealing all your new insights into the work and shock the world.
If I were a castaway, I might agree with Danielle that it would be a shame to deny others the Ghent Altarpiece. This altruism could make me long for another polyptych, a looming wall of Louise Nevelson’s golden or charred fragments. indeed, some of her chapel-like installations look like they could have been composed from the shipwrecked shards of a great galleon. What work would satisfy if I were truly marooned longterm? ‘Tis a mystery. Would the serenity I currently feel in the presence of an Agnes Martin grid painting be replaced with anxiety in the minimalist landscape of endless sea and sky? In my unexpected isolation, would I long for something more discursive and encyclopedic like Teniers’ inventory of Duke Leopold Willem’s many paintings? Would I need another face to function as my Wilson? Would Sarah Siddons be better company than Dr. Gachet? Would an old-age Rembrandt sustain me longer than Leonardo’s ferret fancier? I hope I never have to find out. Until then, my favorite work of the day is the diminutive Amalienberg Palace in Munich, which would be far better situated on a tropical beach than where it currently stands.
Anything by Goya. Specifically The Pilgrimage of St. Isidros. I love how this work shows the progression of Goya’s work. I might have a slight man-crush of Goya…
BTW, I’m a new transfer student in the Art History program, I’m assuming it’s fine to post on this?
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