Friday 6 February 2009

The Triumph of Death.

This is an image of Pieter Breugel's The Triumph of Death 1562. The painting is a panoramic landscape of death where burning cities in the distance blacken the skies and people are cruelly being slaughtered, drowned, burned and hung by armies of skeletons ploughing their way through the living - whose feeble attempts to flee or defend themselves are to no avail. The skeletons are representative of death itself, symbolic of man's inability to escape mortality and his ever impending doom. The painting depicts that people from all walks of life are subject to the same fate - Death does not discriminate against race, age or status and Breugel makes this apparent by including a cardinal and a king amidst the massacre. In the foreground a baby is having it's face nibbled at by a skeletal dog, and, to the left, the death knell of the world is sounded by skeletons hauling a cart full of skulls. In the distance (on the right) we can see what were known as "Breaking Wheels" - a form of torture typical of the period. These were large wooden wagon wheels mounted upon vertical poles where the condemned would be lashed and beaten to death with an iron cudgel.
Breugel's scenes are fascinating not only for their content and the apparent message that they convey, for the narrative within them and the endless amount of information that can be found, but also, most importantly, for the practical skills and expertise of Breugel himself.

1 comment:

delineator said...

Gillian, I'm interested that you chose a painting, but can you discuss what it is about its qualities as a drawing you find compelling? Breughel chooses a very high viewpoint to make what are sometime called 'world-view' images. Other artists from this period (such as Patinir or Altdorfer) who are Northern mannerists chose this viewpoint. And it seems to me that the close-focus highly-detailed drawing style and packing of imagery is all part and parcel of this, along with subject-matter. These are big narratives on a cosmic scale, and the proliferation of detail, unnaturally sharp focus and high viewpoint offer us a kind of taste of a God's-eye view in miniature. Unlike God, of course, we can't see or understand everything at once, so our eye wanders about in a mortal way, dazzled and constantly seeing new combinations. It's worth comparing the drawing in this image with implied drawing in the impressionist painting posted earlier on the blog. well, that's all now! best wishes, Frances