I saw this painting, Dishes with Oysters, Fruit, and Wine, a painting by Osias Beert the Elder, on a recent trip to the National Gallery of Art in DC. It is the second Beert I have seen, Basket of Flowers is the other. Some of Beert’s work is said to be allegorical; Basket of Flowers has allegorical references, for example, which might require specialized knowledge to grasp. But Dishes isn’t complicated. It is what it shows: the richness of the life of the wealthy burghers of Beert’s time.
When Dishes is discussed, the oysters usually take center stage. From the description on the National Gallery site:
The eleven opened oysters arranged upon the pewter plate are striking examples of this realism: their amorphous forms appear to be so liquid that one can almost imagine the oysters’ easily slipping from their pearly white shells.
And down one’s throat, preferably with a squirt of lemon juice and maybe a dusting of pepper. Indeed they are lovely; here is a detail; I assure you it barely does the painting justice.
Compare the oysters with this detail of a Carribean shell. On close inspection, the shell looks as edible as the oysters, it could as easily be a sugar candy from the kitchens of The Food Channel as the calcified remains of a crustacean. And one more image, a Venetian glass filled with wine. In the museum, this shape glows with a promise of nectar.
Beert picked out each element in this painting, and placed it just so, each oyster is in a specific place, the wine glasses and the Ming Dynasty bowls of fruit and nuts are each in their position. I imagine him moving each piece around, and moving each almond into place, moving the tendrils of vine that hold the raisins into this very position, and checking the lighting on the sugar candies. I understand the "still" part of still life. Each piece is fixed where it is.
I wonder how long it took him to get things just so. I wonder how long he stared at that shell, hours perhaps, so he could feel its strength and its colors through his brush to the panel of wood. It got me to thinking about time. The hours of observation, the hours of arranging, the hours of painting, all to show a single instant of time. The time I have spent thinking about that painting. The notion that a still life is wholly artificial, an arrangement that pleased the artist. The context of a still life, the moment in time it shows, is the cessation of the artist’s arrangements of the models, which begins with a table, bowls and dishes, fruit, candies, nuts, bread, crustaceans, oysters, each moved into position, painted, and then moved again, or eaten, maybe one dish at a time, maybe several. They come into position, are painted, and disappear. Like life.



46 Comments




beautiful
Great post, as per usual.
And if you look at that detail of the oysters, you will notice (well, at least I did) that the artist used a very shiny dish to put them in because you can see the beautifully detailed reflections of the oyster shells in the dish underneath the oysters themselves.
I can’t help thinking that Beert must have loved oysters.
This painting must have taken a lot of time, and each time he set up the still life would have required fresh oysters — witness the glossiness of the oysters’ flesh, which only freshly opened oysters would possess.
So he has the help bring up a plate of oysters to his studio, and he paints for a half an hour, and then he eats all the oysters, washing them down with a glass of wine and then desserts on the fruits.
What a life.
Wow, great post, thanks M.
Nice change of pace from the hubbub over the Saints’ win tonight in overtime over the Vikings.
Wish I could see it in better detail. The decanter is intriguing too.
The reflections of the oysters on their pewter plate are really quite something too.
Nice meditation Massacio!
If you click on the first link in the story, it will take you to the National Gallery of Arts’ page featuring this painting; in the lower right there’s a link to a couple of close-up detail shots, including one of the glass.
Amazes me how an artist working in this medium could depict something translucent on a dark background with so few strokes.
Say: wasn’t Massacio a Renaissance artist?
TobyWollin, I had not noticed that, good eye.
And Rayne, lovely thought. Let’s imagine he shared the second dish of oysters with the help.
Thanks, massacio. I’m coming to DC next week, was going to the National Gallery to revisit the Vermeers, but I’ll now stop by these as well.
Thanks again.
Thanks Rayne… and thanks masaccio. More like this please. I’ve been trying to get a few wonderful artist friends of mine to post here… though their luddite fears are force to be reckoned with, I’m afraid.
Yes, he is generally considered the first major artist of the Italian Renaissance. One of his major projects is the Capella Brancachi at Santa Maria Della Carmine in Florence, which includes a beautiful Expulsion of Adam and Eve From the Garden of Eden.
My avatar is from a fresco at the Capella Brancacchi; I thought it was by Masaccio, but it was probably done by his contemporary Masolino.
What I wouldn’t give for a nice platter of Belon oysters like those in that painting. I’ve been craving them since I looked at this painting earlier today, imagining Beert feasting on them every time he went to his studio to paint. They must have been inexpensive and more flavorful than the ones we know today.
Maybe my body is telling me I need some zinc in my diet.
Or maybe more art…I guess I’d settle for either.
Art and Commerce in the Dutch Golden Age, one of the best books I’ve ever read.
This is such a treat. Thank you.
Mankind’s attempt at using a form of any kind to describe what we might have been seeing or experiencing in HIS time, goes back to pounding on logs. Banging on logs was also likely a first form of communication besides language, as IT was developing.
Scratches in stuff, written things scratched to communicate, then painted things scratched on cave walls.
We cannot not communicate, as a species, it’s buried deep.
How we do it now, and what we ascribe to that communication, is yet another leap in the species, once we began to ANALYZE that communication.
You scratch THAT oh well respected sir, in a grand manner Massachio.
Loved this post . . . . thanks.
As soon as people talk about art [especially to differentiate good from bad] it exposes the futility of trying to.
Art, someone once suggested, is the least untrue lie.
Whatever that means.
A starving man would no doubt stare at those oysters impaled on the most exquisite of despair.
But that’s just another kind of art, I suppose.
I love his work — and your feeling for it. My favorite touch is the relentlessly transparent glass — not everybody could achieve that sense of its thinness.
I’m a painter myself, and agree it’s great fun to envision the painting of such a piece.
I’ll offer a historically-based observation that may tickle the imagination bone: if you look at all the dishes together, you’ll see they don’t quite work in perspective relative to each other. Each one has its own vanishing point. That’s most likely because he set up a single modeling surface, with the light just so (and back then, lighting was a huge pain in the ass — you had daylight, which moves, or firelight, which is dim and colors everything red); then he placed each dish in turn in that spot, did a color study of it, and later reproduced these in their correct positions on the canvas, one at a time.
This technique wasn’t just for lighting — some of these foods went bad almost immediately. You can see it in the contemporaneous still lives of dead game animals, sometimes looking rather crusty and bilious.
So he’d suffer the stinky oysters for a couple of days, then move on to the next subject, and use his study like a photo reference. Then he could haul out a fresh batch of oysters, put them in the same shells, and with those as reference, paint the subtle details required to make them seem so lifelike. I can’t help but imagine his relatives complaining about the oysters — the reek, and what a waste of good food!
And now Massachio, tell me, how FAR have has the species come, from the vagary of interpretation of still life, to the vagary of the analysis of communication and art forms? Or the analysis of movie review, or art/performance review?
How far are critics from Shakespeare?
We’ve changed much, in assesing and analyzing the human condition with respect to communication and art forms and performances, but have we been any BETTER at analyzing the human CONDITION, since Shakespeare?
I often wonder.
You know what else fascinates me about this painting?
The little inconsistencies — or at least things we have insufficient information about and may assume are inconsistencies.
Like the wine goblet; it’s enormous, like a bowl in proportion to the rest of the tableware, and nearly as large in volume as the vessel in the center.
Or is the vessel in the center not a wine flask but a smaller flask of an apperitif or liqueur? Could that explain the scale?
Or perhaps there is a story here to which we are not privy, an insiders’ allegory?
I note also the difference in the perspective from oval to oval, formed by viewing round objects at an elevated angle. The oval of the base of the footed bowl in the center of the painting does not match the oval of the oyster plate. On the other hand, the footed bowl appears to be a worked metal. Is Beert showing its slightly bent or warped shape?
Good stuff to ponder. If only we could ask the painter.
melvoid, thanks. That’s a great explanation of the issues of painting still lifes.
Or you can imagine the torment of the motion of painting, the paint alive in the air and the devastation of that very paint still/dried on canvas, as Pollack experienced.
I am an artist. Thank you for the reminder of this in a week that has been desperate.
The world does not wait. Hope dies last.
And I just received for Christmas, Still Life and Trade in the Dutch Golden Age, by Julie Berger Hochstrasser. Very dense, but beautiful color illustrations. She writes about each commodity — I’m still on “cheese.” Not a new book (2007), but new to me.
Beautiful painting, masaccio. I’ll try to find more about Beert the Elder.
Huh, hell, lemme run this comment of mine one further up the pole, have we as a species gotten any better at communication of the ANALYSIS of any snippet in time, that when we were beating on logs?
A snippet of time of the past, it can’t be analyzed because there was a precursor, and a predictor. How far back does that precursor go? Where does the analysis stop? How far future does that snippet impact? Can’t analyze that.
A snippet of time in the PRESENT, has a similar problem.
Any snippets of a future present the similar issues of how to analyze, temporally.
Perhaps the human existence is meant to experience it all, and do the best we can for each and every one of us, to interpret it and analyze it to our own experience.
Yep. My birthday today, Vikings lost, I’m bitter and searching for a better understanding of shit.
Oh well, betcha sun comes up tomorrow.
Still think, this a great, great post Massachio, and thanks for it . . . . I love oysters.
So here’s a short version of art & commerce in the Dutch golden age. Dutch farmers have a higher standard of living that the peasants in nearby countries. Thus they could not compete in grain crops because the price of production in the Netherlands was much higher than in nearby countries. Thus they took advantage of technological developments to enter into other economic activities. Hortaculture, formerly the purview of royalty, became the commonplace in Dutch GA. And in still lives. Salting of fish allow Dutch fishers to go more than 24 hours away from shore, and helped to establish the Dutch dominance in seafood. In turn that led to share ownership of ships, a spreading of risk that allowed the Dutch to sail globally. Quite an extraordinary Golden Age. Perhaps the best that ever there was.
Those are fascinating issues. I glibly said at the beginning of this post that this painting doesn’t seem to have any meaning other than what it shows, but Rayne points to possibilities and maybe there are others we can’t see, so that the painting fails to communicate at least to me, the Beert’s intended meanings.
Communicating requires active listening as well as active speaking. Active listening is a learned skill, isn’t it? I’m not sure as a society we are that good at it. Many parts of our lives seem to operate on a directed kind of communication: do this, yes I hear and will do.
What do you think?
Get the book I recommend, read them both and then let me know if I should read the book you got.
Dude. It’s football.
It’s like painting in the wet sand at the shoreline at a rising tide. It means nothing except in the experience of the game.
Your birthday means more, but it means what you choose and the choice lasts longer if you aren’t painting in sand on the shoreline.
Do something better and more permanent for yourself as a birthday treat.
Now I see what you are saying more clearly. Yes, but remember that in our communities, we share a large part of the precursors, which helps. It is the new idea that requires active listening, the old ideas are repeated uncritically most of the time, because of that shared history. And, the old ideas may not fit with the old ideas of other communities with which we don’t have that shared past, so active listening is required there on both sides.
I’m pretty sure that U.S. exceptionalism precludes active listening. But I’m sure Raven will school me otherwise. U.S.A! U.S.A!
Let me recommend one: Rembrant’s Eyes, by Simon Schama. I’d travel with it, but it weighs a ton.
OK
I’ve read Schama on Embarrassment of Riches. Was not impressed. Another idol with feet of clay IMO.
It sure does weigh a ton, but then, so does his Embarrassment of Riches. I do LOVE to listen to his programs, though.
What is the beer of choice for Vietnam?
Glory be to God, Masaccio, I’ve known you as an astute observer of the political economy over these last several months and whenever I’ve stopped to read your comments I’ve always been impressed. Now I find you’re a lover of art (and food?) and a wonderful commentator on the same. What a fabulous gift for this Sunday evening. Thanks so much!
Blessings,
Thanks so much for this lovely post, masaccio.
Yes, what a beautiful painting. So different from the ‘Basket of Flowers’. And as Rayne pointed out, the perspective is the key. Everything seems to gyrate around the pedestaled dish in the center. It’s almost like being on the water, harvesting the fruit of the sea, where nothing is static. Like with Vermeer, mentioned earlier, nothing is what it seems on first inspection, where only the ‘objects’ are accounted for. These artists are fascinating communicators. They start with ‘what do you see?’, and bring one to ‘how do you feel?’. Next time I’m at the National Gallery, I’ll check this out, along with the El Grecos. Thanks. It’s so nice to check in on FDL late Sunday evening and run into this!
This post caused me to register to this site, which I’ve been reading and enjoying and getting a lot out of for quite some time now.
Very cool post, Masaccio!
As a painter who has quoted from this very painting and copied these very oysters (and thus all they represent) I can say that the palette for actually painting these oysters is a very strange one. In the color language of the time this was painted it was all earth pigments, and today no other pigments (modern) will make this as yummy as actual earth pigments (really just dirt in oil). And not only that but oysters are the (truly) yuckiest combination of earth pigments possible (try, raw umber, burnt umber and yellow ochre with white – sort of a ‘puke’ combination). Of course, oysters are of the sea and are not truly earthly creations in some sense.
It is a very slow and slowly thought and emotion provoking painting. Thank you Masaccio! Really enjoyed your post!
congrats on de-lurking inbf
inbf, welcome to the lake, and thanks for the kind words. Your technical details add a valuable perspective that wouldn’t be visible to us untrained observers. It’s one reason commenters are so welcome here.
Thanks. Art and food, yes, and I have had a number of surprisingly good lunches at museums, including the National Gallery.
Now that’s fascinating, all earth colors. I dabble a little in paint, but hadn’t even given thought to the colors necessary to duplicate this.
Thanks for de-lurking to share that!
Thank you Masaccio, Suzanne and Rayne. Looking forward to more posts by you.