The next painting is Susannah and the Elders, by Tintoretto, from 1555-6:
We can see the elders, at each side of the hedge. They, too, seem quite uncomfortable, but they will soon be able to see ... well, pretty much everything they would hope to here. This Susannah is substantial ... where Bronzino's Venus was nude, Susannah is naked (see my other numbered nudely/naked, nakedly/nude posts). She is not perfect; she is not anticipating a portrait to come of this quiet, reflective toilette. She is alone, she thinks, and not yet aware of her onlookers. But she is all we see. And her calm demeanor pulls us in -- because this moment is so fleeting. But still we look at her. Even more, I think, than we look at Bronzino's Venus.
Why is that? We look at the "Allegory of Venus and Cupid" because we cannot be sure what is happening; so, we look all over the canvas, and then all over the canvas, and then catch a detail or two, and then look all over again. But when we move to Tintoretto's "Susannah," we get the male gaze. And so our tendency is to gaze, as well. Our focus is certain here.
Thinking about the ways we process the nude and the naked body, I have been working on a new odalisque, this one with a subdued background, a background that, I hope, might still draw attention. But it can be difficult. Theodore Roethke wrote, in "I Knew a Woman":
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
.... What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
So, yes, it can be difficult to pull attention away from that naked "bright container," whether it is male or female. Here is a detail of the bones, so far, in my newest painting:
Resting, now, until we do battle again, tomorrow.
Bronzino's Allegory is the subject of my historical novel Cupid and the Silent Goddess, which imagines how the painting might have been created in Florence in 1544-5.
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http://www.twentyfirstcenturypublishers.com/index.asp?PageID=496
That must have been fun to research and to write! Thanks for visiting, and best of luck with your ongoing writing.... Ann
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