I do not study art, at least not officially. But I like art: creating it and viewing it. When I make art, I prefer mediums like linoleum printmaking, bookbinding, and collage– stuff that’s hands on and crafty. But when I become the viewer, I prefer looking at paintings over any other form of art. I like the diverse range of usable mediums and the unique colors that a painter can achieve.I might not be anywhere near an expert, but everyone has a valid opinion on art, even if they don’t share it.
I rather agree with Emily Bryne, who recently recommended her top five poems on SkidNews, when she says that “whether or not it’s good depends on subjectivity.” When any one of us views art casually, the way a piece will affect us is entirely reliant on our own self– how we’re feeling that day, why we’re looking at the piece, who we’re with, and our overall likes and dislikes. That’s why it’s so hard to say art is good. To one person, it might be, but to another, it might not. And opinions and feelings are always subject to change.
For me, an element of art that’s less subjective is historical significance.The why of art, when applicable, helps me fully experience and connect with a piece. This is recognizable throughout my list, but you’ll also see paintings that have little to no historical value. You might not appreciate or relate to them at all, and that’s fine. In this list, I’m talking about whatever paintings I want, because it’s my list, and not yours.
5. Young Girl Reading, Jean Honoré Fragonard
This painting lives in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. It was painted in the 18th century, and is easily interpreted as… a young girl reading. I stared at it for about an hour as a high school art student, and eventually decided to sketch and paint my own acrylic version for my intensive art class. Even though a few paragraphs ago I claimed that all art is subjective, I must tell you that my final copy was quite unfortunate looking.
I didn’t have the skill to emulate what first drew me to Young Girl Reading: its color. The blue of the pillow against the yellow of the dress works well due to their near opposite placement on the color wheel, but the use of bluish tones as shading for the dress, as well as for the highlight on a pillow that is otherwise a warm ruddy red, is really unexpected and fun.
This painting places last on my list because of my dislike of the titular detail: the book and the hand the young woman holds it with. The book looks cartoonish, and the impossible curve of her pinkie finger freaks me out. It bothers me whenever I think about it, but as I found out in high school, it’s not like I could have done any better.
Young Girl Reading is best viewed in person to see the full extent of its color, texture, and yes, the cringey book and hand. The National Gallery is one of my favorite museums, and is conveniently located only seven hours away from Skidmore’s campus. It houses lots of other art worth seeing, like Dali’s Sacrament of the Last Supper, Thiebaud’s Cakes, and the underground moving walkway that connects the museum’s two buildings, which I consider a piece of art in itself.
4. The Mass of St. Gregory, Nahua
I just think this one is neat. It looks like another one of the millions of religious art pieces that humanity has produced. When I first saw it, I wasn’t too blown away. But I hadn’t taken note of the piece’s medium, which would stick in my brain for weeks.
Though it might not be apparent in any way, shape, or form, The Mass of St. Gregory is made out of feathers. Real feathers, taken from birds. The technique is called featherwork, and does not involve using feathers as applicators for paint but to form the work. If this piece were to be picked up and tilted different ways, the whole image would move slightly, and the feathers would shine different colors in relation to the source of light.
I’m not sure where The Mass of St. Gregory is located, or even if it’s available for the public, so I can only imagine what it would be like to view this painting in person. Nevertheless, I’m enamored with it.
Tragically, the name of the artist is unknown, but we do know that they were an indigenous Nahua person located in New Spain, and that the work was gift commissioned for Pope Paul III. It was intended to thank the Pope for his decree that the indigenous people of the Americas should no longer be enslaved. Pope Paul III also stated in this decree that, despite what had previously been thought, indigenous people did indeed have souls and rationality. The piece is unique in that it displays a collaboration of Spanish values and religion with traditional native art techniques.
That’s a lot of factors combining to make one piece of art, and it makes me appreciate The Mass of St. Gregory more than I would as a standalone painting. I also love the composition of the scene, as well as the use of symbols and pictographs.
3. Aspects of N*gro Life: From Slavery to Reconstruction, Aaron Douglas
Aaron Douglas was one of the many talented artists that produced stunning and meaningful artwork during the Harlem Renaissance. This piece is part of the mural series Aspects of N*gro Life, which tells a story from right to left. Circles of color emanate from two areas of importance, creating a visual metaphor as well as overlaps and changes in color that are subtle, beautiful, and anchor the entire piece. Visually, this is what makes From Slavery to Reconstruction one of my favorite paintings. It makes me feel like the painting is glowing.
I really enjoy Aaron Douglas’ art style. He creates objects, figures, and backgrounds in a very block-like way without making the painting feel rigid. Nothing is overly detailed, but the viewer is given all the necessary information. Douglas created other pieces in monochrome palettes, such as Noah’s Arc and Building More Stately Mansions. I like these works a lot, but for me, Aspects of N*gro Life is Douglas’ most successful piece. The soft texture with sharp lines seen in Douglas’ work are especially beautiful and effective when placed in a more broad color palette. I also love the muted natural colors that make up this work. They lend seriousness to the piece without detracting from the message it conveys.
The history Aspects of N*gro Life depicts is not my own. When I view this piece, my personal historical connection to it is the violence my ancestors perpetuated. But Aspects of N*gro Life is not a violent painting. Various threats loom in the distance, but the overall work depicts strong leadership and conveys a feeling of hope. I truly think it’s an unforgettable piece of art.
Aspects of N*gro Life: From Slavery to Reconstruction is located at the New York Public Library. I couldn’t tell you which one, but it’s definitely the most accessible painting on my list. I hope to see it in person someday.
2. To Every Dog There is a Season - Spring 1996, Tom Everhart
Before including this piece, every painting on my list incorporated the human form. I had a whole lot of things to say about it, stuff that was pretty poignant, too. Then I remembered Snoopy. And here he is.
There has only ever been one person besides Charles Schultz who could legally create works using characters from Peanuts, and his name is Tom Everhart. Look him up and you’ll see both Snoopy and the gang rendered with thick brushstrokes, bright colors, and splatters of paint. This work, informally referred to as Spring, is one you’ll have to scroll for a while before you see. I only know about it because it’s been looming above my head my whole life.
The picture of Spring above was taken by my dad of our family’s print. Most of the art in our house was done by my mom or grandfather, so I always thought it was kind of funny that we just happened to have this huge painting of Snoopy hanging up. My dad bought it for my mom, who loves Peanuts and collects Snoopy christmas ornaments. If this painting specifically has significance in the art world, I don’t know about it. I do know that I like the scribbled red and the orangey splatters. Above all, I like that this painting says exactly one thing, and that is: here is Snoopy. Because, truly, there he is.
1. Ophelia, Sir John Everett Millais
Ophelia is probably the most widely-known painting on my list, and there are a lot of layers to unpack when thinking about this piece. It depicts a scene from Shakespeare of a girl called Ophelia committing suicide via drowning in a river. I couldn’t tell you which play it is, but it shouldn’t take you long to find someone who does know.
Also, it’s just a beautiful piece. The lush and carefully painted greenery perfectly frames a young woman in an ornate dress who is managing to die and look good doing it. The scene isn’t overly composed, with the fallen tree and random plant growth adding to the realism that Millais was known for achieving. The realism in this piece was heavily aided by Lizzie Siddal, the model who endured long hours posing in a bathtub so Millais could accurately depict a woman half-underwater.
Siddal was an artist herself, and took inspiration from the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, an artistic movement slash secret club founded by Millais and his friends. Her modeling work for Ophelia was arguably the most difficult of her career, which included other paintings by brotherhood members, such as Beata Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rosetti. At one point during the process of creating Ophelia, Siddal became severely ill due to the bathwater losing its heat source and growing dangerously cold.
The irony of nearly dying while depicting near-death fascinates me, but also makes me wonder if the painting was worth it, which is a question that’s a little too meta for my opinion piece. If you’re curious about Siddal, or the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood in general, I encourage you to do some research on the subject. There’s a lot more art worth seeing from this movement, which was rife with personal dramas among members of the brotherhood and their surrounding community, meaning almost every piece has an interesting story to go along with it.
Besides the fascinating history behind the work, Ophelia has remained my favorite painting due to the sheer beauty and meticulosity I see in the work. I love the rounded corners that frame the top, I love the pops of color in the flowers floating beside Siddal, and I love how the tones of green depict patterns of light and shadow. I do not love the romanticism of suicide, and how Millais’ talent allowed him to display such a heartbreaking event as something glamorous. But taking in the work as a depiction of a fictional event helps me appreciate the technical skill, time, money, and strength that it took to create such a masterpiece.