The Louvre has the Mona Lisa. In his nifty newsetter Ironic Sans, David Friedman reviews the “most treasured” holding of other museums…
Did you know that there is only one painting by Leonardo da Vinci on view in America? It’s a portrait of a teenage girl named Ginevra de’ Benci, a Florentine aristocrat, possibly commissioned for her wedding. And it’s one of only four portraits Leonardo painted of women. The most famous one, of course, is the Mona Lisa.The portrait of Ginevra is on display at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, which acquired the painting in 1967. There’s an interesting story of how the painting was brought from Liechtenstein Castle to Washington in carry-on luggage.
[I haven’t told you this yet, but for the past year I’ve been working full-time as Senior Video Producer at the National Gallery of Art. I love it. Working in a museum surrounded by some of the world’s best art and telling stories about how art makes a difference in people’s lives, every day is a good day. Another time, I’ll share some of the work we’re doing. But for now, I just need to make clear that this newsletter is in no way formally connected to the museum or my work there.]
Here is Ginevra, painted by Leonardo around 30 years before Mona Lisa:
I once heard someone refer to Ginevra as “America’s Mona Lisa.” Obviously that’s in part because they’re both by the same artist. But sometimes people refer to something as their Mona Lisa to mean it’s their prize possession, or an incredible work, or the draw that people come to see.
And that got me wondering: What do other museums and institutions refer to as their Mona Lisa?
So I did some digging and I’ve gathered 17 works of art and other surprising things where someone from the institution has gone on record calling it their Mona Lisa…
As we hit the highlights, we might spare a thought for a man whose works were often the “Mona Lisas” of the halls they graced: Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (AKA, Giambattista or Gianbattista Tiepolo): he died on this date in 1770. A painter and printmaker from the Republic of Venice, his luminous, poetic frescoes, while extending the tradition of Baroque ceiling decoration, epitomized the lightness and elegance of the Rococo period. Indeed, he was described by National Gallery head Michael Levey as “the greatest decorative painter of eighteenth-century Europe, as well as its most able craftsman.” He is considered– with Giambattista Pittoni, Canaletto, Giovan Battista Piazzetta, Giuseppe Maria Crespi, and Francesco Guardi— one of the traditional Old Masters of that period.
A preliminary sketch for “Allegory of the Planets and Continents,” a fresco in the palace of Carl Philipp von Greiffenklau, prince‑bishop of Würzburg, in present-day Germany (Metropolitan Museum of Art)
Tiepolo’s self-portrait (1750–1753), from a ceiling fresco in that Würzburg Residence
“Monsters are born too tall, too strong, too heavy, they are not evil by choice; that is their tragedy”
– Ishiro Honda (Kurosawa friend, Toho director, and creator of Godzilla)
As we rethink our attraction to urban centers, we might compose a birthday rhyme for Torquato Tasso, the 16th Century Italian poet; he was born on this date in 1544. Though Tasso was a giant in his own time– he died in 1595, a few days before the Pope was to crown him “King of the Poets”– he had fallen out the core of the Western Canon by the end of the 19th century. Still, he resonates in the poems (Spencer, Milton, Byron), plays (Goethe), madrigals (Monteverdi), operas (Lully, Vivaldi, Handel, Haydn, Rossini, Dvorak) , and art work (Tintoretto, the Carracci, Guercino, Pietro da Cortona, Domenichino, Van Dyck, Poussin, Claude Lorrain, Tiepolo, Fragonard, Delacroix) that his life and work inspired.
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